Hearts at War
by jazzy2may
Summary: Slash DM/M, Summary inside. SLASH. on HIATUS 4 now
1. Chapter 1

Highlander: Hearts War  
Author(s): Jazzy and Eva (© 2001)  
Pairing: DM/M  
Rating: MATURE  
Characters: Joe, DM, M, Connor-n-spirit, Kate The DeValincourts and many others immortal and none. NOTE: I will re-write this story in the future and Story is Unfinished W-I-P at present.

Summary: Takes place after the Highlander Film: END GAME Macleod is going insane or thinks he is. He has a wonderful partner in Methos and they have finally settled in to their new home and new routines. Macleod has become basically a depressed home body.

Warnings: DARK FIC, H/C, Established Relationship, Post- HL series & HL #4: EndGame. Angst, serious matters, possible emotional, physical, and psychological torture, and issues of depression. 

Chapter 1

He sat in an overstuffed chair by a banking fire, reading a book that did not interest him in the least. Yet, it was something he could do to pass the time while he waited. He was waiting. Joe called to say that Duncan had finished Jacob Kel off in New York, (thank whatever divinity was present at the time!) though Mac's victory was something Methos had felt certain of even without Joe's phone call. Methos had felt Duncan through the joint quickening of several years ago, the bond had weakened with their time apart from each other and the distance which Methos had put between them purposely. But nothing could dampen the power Methos had felt coursing through Duncan with Connor's quickening and Kel's, as well.

That power had rocked Methos out of a sound sleep and coursed down his own body, the sheer magnitude of such quickenings were awesome, he had felt nothing that powerful since the night of the four horsemen's doom. Joe continued to tell him of the lonely funeral Duncan had attended. How everyone Connor had known or loved was either dead or just would not go to the funeral, not even Connor's adopted son, John. How awful that must have been for the highlander, to go through! Still probably not as bad as Duncan must have felt while being forced to take his kinsmen's head, but still, how tragic it all was.

"He'll be arriving in London soon Methos. Try to take it easy on him, okay?"

Methos sighed, "Why am I always the bad guy Joe?" he complained, "Oh never mind. I'll be as careful with him as I am with new borns. I swear Joe, no stress at all!"

"There better not be, or I'll come over their and kick your ass, legs or no legs, man."

"I got it Joe." Methos laughed good naturedly, "I know you will. You're a good friend to us Joe. I don't know what we'll ever do without you."

Joe snorted through the phone. "Keep it up Methos, and I might just forgive you for the last heartache you gave him. Honeyed talker that you are. I'll see the both of you later. Man, I'm gonna love Oahu."

Again Methos laughed. "Enjoy your vacation Joe."

"you know it pal. Bye Methos."

"Bye Joe."

The line went empty with a click and Methos hung up as well. He was happy that Duncan would soon be arriving, coming home. To _their_ home. However, it seemed that time had it's own agenda, and was moving way too slowly for Methos' piece of mind, he had too much of it. Methos stood up moved to the fire and fiddled with it for a few moments than he decided that the fire needed more wood, so he brought in more wood, grabbed himself another beer from the fridge, than he sat back down in his comfy chair and waited.

He knew Duncan would be "okay" if any man would be "okay," after killing all the family left in the world to him. Yes, it was going to be hard in the weeks, months, years, to come ahead of them, but Duncan would survive. Methos would make sure of that. As he had promised Joe he would. He was still worried that Duncan would be staring into the emptiness without Connor's bracing hand at his back and caustic wit in his ears.

Losing a teacher, a brother, a friend and beloved one was always difficult, and it was one that they were both familiar with. Connor had been Duncan's first teacher, as well as his kinsmen, and for a Scot, Clan was everything. What to do? What to do? Would Duncan even let Methos help?

Finally, Methos felt Duncan's Presence, strong and clear, echoing in his head as well as in his heart. No other's Presence had ever worked that way on Methos or anyone else. But Duncan's Presence seemed to resonate, even harmonize, with others. Mac was that very rare bird, a social Immortal. Mac was also a guiding star, a moral compass for many in the Immortal community, Methos among them. Without Duncan, Methos knew in his heart, that he would never have become as human as he was now, as compassionate or as changed as he was. Without Duncan Methos very well knew that he would have accepted Kronos' dominion again and turn back to his old evil ways. Methos shuddered at these images.

Nasty business, keep your mind off of what-have-beens and would-have-beens and get your mind on comforting your friend, idiot! 

Methos looked out the window and saw Duncan get out of the cab. He watched Duncan turn, look around, then walk slowly up the steps of their home. Duncan shuffled his feet like an old man, he almost seemed his actual age, Four Hundred years old and troubled, extremely troubled. Methos knew it was because of Connor's death and Rachel's death. Why did Duncan stop like that, tilt his head like that? As if he were listening to some voice, Connor's voice, now silenced, forever. Or could it be that Duncan was troubled by the reemergence of the wife. Yes, Methos knew about that particular bit of business as well. He knew about Kate. Would Duncan ever speak of it? Would Duncan be changing his mind about the two of them? Would Duncan choose dearest Kate over some stodgy old cynic book worm, like him?

I had hoped so much that day he came to visit me, it would not be for information but for something else. Something they had danced around for close to 15 years about. Love, Social Visit, Dating, anything at all. I had a bad feeling that day. I could feel Duncan's emotions. His worry and his fears for his kinsman. I could deny my Highlander nothing, of course that didn't mean I wasn't above making Duncan work for it, pithy remarks and cute little puzzles for my Duncan to figure, but as usual Duncan bull headed it and forced me to speak the plain words that would help him on the road to finding his Connor. I knew the information I had for him would be just another wound in his heart, still, I had no choice. Duncan wouldn't let it go. He wouldn't let me keep my secrets.

I suppose in the long run I really didn't want to keep this particular one. I didn't agree with Sanctuary. What kind of refuge would Sanctuary be, when it was not even on Holy Ground? Especially with idiots like those running it? Those questions' answers were self evident now. It was no protection and no refuge at all.

Hello, Watchers, you really did muck this one up, but thank the Gods you did so. Otherwise, we'd all be dead or else what little survivors there would have been would still be trying to dig themselves out of the rubble. Pompeii, Mt. Vesuvius, ring any bells? Or how about Atlantis? Or Herculanium? Gods! What a bunch of idiots.

How I hated myself that day. For what I had to tell Duncan. Watching another shard of him break off. And while I spoke and watched my friend, the love of my immortal life, suffer once more and try to deny what was so right there in his face. I knew it was the beginning of the end for either my Duncan or for his Connor. I knew in my bones that one of them was going to die. And how I hated myself that day and dreaded what I knew would happen next. And selfish bastard that I am, I prayed that it would not be Duncan that would be the one to die. Which then damned Connor and damned my Highlander as well. For with one's destruction it was inevitable that the other would follow.

I would try now to pick up the pieces and see to it, that it was my Highlander that would survive and come back whole again, and stronger than ever. That Highlander whose name was Duncan Macleod of the Clan Macleod, it is he that I would like to see again. That proud, painful thorn in my side. A man who would stand straight once more and laugh once more and tease once more. 

Methos also knew that the danger was not past. It was still out there. She was still out there. Kate was a sleeping serpent, waiting. Methos suspected that Kate was another Cassandra, broken and bitter. A viper, trained and ready to strike when the time was right. Methos knew she was Kel's, his trained little puppet. A pawn, now made a queen and free ranging in her movements, a powerful piece, in this newest round of Kel's game.

Duncan should not have allowed her to go so easily, nor Kel allow her to keep her deranged head. Did Duncan realy not know, not realy suspect what she was? The danger she presented for them both? How could he not? Wait a minute, this is Duncan I'm talking about. Of course he wouldn't know, or else he just can't deal with it. After all she was once his wife and the love of his heart. Killing her would be impossible for him, even in self-defense. Bloody idiot Scot! I might as well be angry at the weather for as all that it will do for me to be angry with that part of his nature which I Love so well. His honor, his heart, his goodness. If Duncan will not kill her, Than I must. And I will do whatever it takes to keep Duncan safe. Now I must stop these ramblings and far ranging plannings, because now it is, that Duncan needs me to put him back together again. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Duncan looked longingly up at their brick home. he knew that inside Methos was waiting for him, along with a nicely made fire, warm and snug. Maybe once he was inside, the chill would leave him at last? He was shaking and could not remember a time when he had ever been this chilled or this cold. The cold went so deep, deeper than even his bones or marrow, he even went so far as to suspect that the chill was lodged somewhere in his soul or was it his heart, probably both.

It was stupid. Everything that had happened to this point had been so stupid, so pointless! Kel had been one seriously disturbed piece of whacked work. None of it made any sense to Duncan. Both sides had been wronged. Who was to say which person's life had been more important? Certainly not Kel. That was God's place. Connor's Mam had been killed as was Kel's adopted Father. An eye for an eye had already been paid. No one's life had been worth so much innocent blood being spilled. How could Kel hunt Connor so long and kill all those whom Connor had loved? It had been so... so wrong.

And Rachel? Poor sweet Rachel, who had done no harm to anyone in all her fifty years of living. Oh, dearest God, why Connor's Rachel? Why my dearest and only niece? Duncan knew it was futile to ask God why. He knew he would not get God's answer until that day when it would be his own turn, when his own time to go had come. It was just another question he would have to store with all the rest, for that day.

Connor had adored his adopted daughter so much. Connor and Duncan could not deny Rachel anything, from stories at night to adventures in far away countries, cruises and the rest. One would think that such spoilage would ruin the person's character but it did not. She was forever kind, a little timid, sometimes, a lion at others. She had been Connor's daughter in every meaning of the word, and Duncan's niece. Duncan's heart was torn for both of them. He didn't know for whom he grieved more, for Connor or for Rachel, or for himself. No more Connor. No more Rachel. No more Kin. It was horrible! Horrible, horrible, pain.

Than there was John. Practically a stranger to Connor as well as to Duncan. John had been Connor's other and last adopted child, a son. Jonathan Macleod, estranged. An adult quite capable of taking care of himself now as well as being married and expecting a baern on the way. Duncan was grateful that John was not a child any more and would not need Duncan to care for him in Connor's absence, because Duncan very much doubted he would be up to taking care of anybody least of all a child or even himself. He just wanted to curl up and cry again for the pain of his losses.

John had grieved openly over the phone and assured Duncan that he would himself be okay. John's words played in his head. "I'll miss him terribly Uncle, but Dad prepared me for this eventuality a long time ago. I've had time to accept it.

"Oh Duncan, I know how much you looked up to Dad, and how much you relied on him. All the late night and early morning phone calls, the letters, dating back decades even hundreds of years. I know how hard this must be for you, Uncle Duncan, but he's in a better place now. There with his beloved Heather and beloved first teacher, Ramirez. I'm very certain that he's happy now, really happy now, and we must let him go and move on with our lives as he would want us to.

"I wish I could have been there for the funeral Uncle, you know I do, but with Tara expecting so soon, we just couldn't chance her being away from her doctor and I couldn't go on my own because Tara needs me there also for the delivery, she would have felt alone and scared if I had abandoned her to go to the funeral. I'm so sorry Uncle, really. I am so sorry that he did this to you. But if you had been in his place, to whom would you want your quickening to go to? Some wacko nut case murderer, or to your brother?"

Duncan remembered his throat closing at that point and he had to fight to keep a sniveling whimper from escaping his control. But it seemed that John heard him anyway.

"Oh, Duncan, maybe... Oh God! Tara!" the phone was dropped and Duncan could hear the scuffling of panicky feet and a woman's cry of "Its time, its time!"

Then John seemed to get some wits back and picked up the phone.

"Sorry Uncle Duncan, Tara's having the baby right now and I gotta go. I'll talk to you later. Oh God, Tara, I'm coming."

Then the phone clicked and their conversation was at an end, and in spite of his grief, Duncan had actually found a small amused smile to wear on his face. After a few moments though the loneliness was back, crashing down on him and destroying his moment of peace. That was also when the cold seemed to move in on a permanent residency, it got worse and spread farther within him, and now it seemed he was doomed never to be warm again. He was wearing a t-shirt, a sweatshirt, an over shirt, a jacket and an overcoat, and still he felt so very, very, cold and so very, very, old. He felt like he was dying, slowly and painfully, a piece of him at a time.

Would this never end? Would the killing never end? Nor the grieving ever end?

Methos! Methos! Help ma! I think I may be dying after all. Can this grief really kill ma? Will I just let it kill ma? Oh Methos, make it end. Make it go away. Make it all just go away. Tears again stung his eyes.

How was this grief less painful for John? Was it through separation and the rare visits? Or was it a remnant from that one time when John had been kidnapped and tormented by that one monstrous Immortal? Could John truly be less attached to Connor, how could this be if John truly loved Connor as a son loves his father? Mac couldn't understand it. How does anyone detach themselves from their loved ones?

In his four hundred years of life he had loved and lost and grieved to the fullest, never able to bring himself not to get too attached. It was something though he had once or twice advised Richie about, not something he'd ever learned how to do either. Accepting that a mortal lives such a short time, a blink of an eye really, was not something he had a problem with knowing, but letting them go, getting on with his life, that one had always been rather tricky and hard to do for him. Letting anyone go, even Methos, was so very hard for him to do, when all he wanted was to hold on tight and never let them out of his sight or out of his grasp ever again. Mortals live and Mortals die. Immortals live and Immortals die. That is the way of life. He knew that, Methos told him so more times than he could count, but it was also something Duncan had known for himself, experienced for himself.

Duncan had missed out on many different years with Connor and still Connor's absence was horribly painful, so separation could not possibly be a way of making acceptance easier. But still as the boy had said, late night calls traded between them, photos swapped and stories told over a pint at a friendly tavern or road house, or today's dance clubs. Countless and precious and far between their visits, and now never to be again.

Why must I have been the one, Connor? It is such a terrible burden yew have left on ma heart, and a hole in ma soul. Connor... Connor... 

Tears fell again down his cheeks and choking him while he inhaled salty wetness through his nose. Duncan was well aware that if he hadn't struck the beheading blow Connor would have. The man had had that rare manic look to him and was dead set against hearing any reason. If Duncan had not taken Connor, Connor would have taken Duncan, the man had been desperate. Than where would Duncan be? Staring out from his cousin's eyes, never to touch Methos again or see his love again with his own eyes.

Methos would have hit the roof. Connor alive but no Duncan! Connor would have been a walking dead man, and both Highlanders had known it. It was best this way, or so Connor kept assuring him. But somehow Duncan didn't feel that it was. The grief was still so strong and the anger as well. He was so upset with Connor over all of this. Yet, how can he blame a dead man? It wasn't right. The guilt was tearing him apart. Blood of his kin on his hands for the second time in his long life, and guilt for being angry with that dead kinsman. And guilt for much much more.

//Och now, Laddy, yew know why it had to happen. And yew are the far better choice than some evil Immortal like Kel. Yew went up against him Ladd, yew know that I alone could noht have defeated him. Only as one could we have even had the chance of it, and it worked.//

Oh Connor. He sighed sadly. I still disagree with it. We could have had a chance without resorting to this. I killed Kronos and Caspian, two very ancient and very powerful Immortals. I also defeated, with Methos' help of course, a dark quickening. I think together, one on one, we could have defeated Kel without having had me absorb your quickening! 

//I know Duncan. I know you are angry still, and that yew are hurting. I know that yew're also feeling guilty Ladd. Yew have every right to feel that way. I blame yew noht. If Ramirez had done as I had, I too would be feeling as yew do. But I know it deeply, that this was the right thing ta do.//

Noh! Noh it wasna right, twas wrong, wrong, wrong. 

Connor's spirit sighed. //Stubborn brat. All right, all right, for now we will agree to disagree, all right?//

Still noht good enough Connor. growled Duncan, But for sake of no more arguing, Aye, I will agree ta disagree with yew. 

//Good Ladd!// Connor's caustic chuckle filled Duncan's ears and again in spite of his pain Duncan found a glimmer of a smile. How could he not, when he was home and Connor's laughter was ringing in his ears? That one of a kind laugh, which was heard only rarely. It was such a strange laugh and not a laugh that could be denied accompaniment. So Duncan laughed with his dead kinsman, he laughed until again the sobs choked him and his tears were accompanied by newly falling rain. Perhaps the angels were weeping as well?

Oh Connor...Connor...Connor... 

//Go inside Laddy, he waits fer yew. He's worried and he loves yew. Go to him. Let him comfort and take care of yew, fer a change. He wants to. He loves yew Duncan so verrah much.//

How can I? How can I go to him, when I've slept with her? He demanded. This newest burden of shame at last given voice, something new to torment himself with. It was perhaps the more agonizing of his pain, even more terrible than even his grief. Noh, I cannah. I slept with her! I, I've betrayed Methos. We worked so hard to overcome so much. This will ruin it all. Why did I have to go and screw it all up again?! Was it noht I, that always told Fitz ta keep it in his pants? Ta think before giving in ta his passions? How can I keep ma honor? When I have become a hypocrite!

We were hurt and estranged for over eight years Connor. How can I tell him what I have done? He'll leave ma! Noh! He'll kill ma. Noh, He'll leave ma than he'll kill ma. How could I have done this to him? After all this time apart and now we're back together, how can I risk losing him again? He helped ma to find yew Connor. Giving ma his good will though I deserved it little. He accepted ma back with a few quiet words and a bottle of beer, almost reminiscent of our first meeting. And I betrayed him. I slept with her. Och, I wish I were dead! I slept with her, though ma heart rebelled against it. Still I slept with her, with Kate. Kate, whom I thought long dead all these years. How do I tell him I am married? I cannah, I can noht! 

//Then don't. The marriage was over the night yew killed her, Duncan. I do not accuse you, Laddy. I speak only the truth, a truth you well know in your heart. She rejected yew and yew went on with yewr life. Both your rings gone, thrown away like yewr lives together. Yew know also, that back in those days, once the rings were off the marriage ended, was annulled, paperwork was never needed but by the rich and blue blooded. It was over a long time ago Ladd, let it go. Let this new guilt go. Yew did not cheat on Kate with Little Deer, or with Amanda, or with dearest Tessa, or any number of the others yew have loved and lost over the years.

Methos loves yew. Ask his forgiveness, tell him. He loves yew. Methos will understand. He will accept yew, and understand why yew did it. Just tell him that yew love him still. Let him know that Kate means nothing to yew any more, that he is yewr heart's true-love and that yew love him and only him. Let him know how yew feel. Tell him! Will yew noh listen ta me Ladd, och yew always were the more stubborn of the two of us. Fine! have it yewr way, boy-o.//

I'm dirty Connor. I feel so dirty, and so tired, so bloody goddam tired. I cannah tell him. I am so deathly ashamed. How dare I to tell him, to ask him to keep me? When I, I slept with her, even after, after Methos took me back. I can't lose him. I can't tell him what I've done. He'll kill ma, or turn his back on ma.

Connor, Connor, I can't lose him. I will noh, lose him. Noht so soon after I have lost yew, Connor, killed yew. I need him. He's all I have left, as my rock as my foundation. I can't lose him. I wont. 

//Will History be repeated once more Donnechaide? I can't believe I'm hearing this from you again. Did you learn nothing from the Kate fiasco? Kate it was that you once loved and held onto with strangling grip, and it was she that you could not bear to lose to time or natural death, so you made her immortal instead of leaving her be and letting her go. You killed her rather than be parted from her and in doing so yew sundered your marriage and her life. Tell Methos, Ladd.

Don't repeat what happened to Kate, with Methos. Come clean, accept his decision for good or ill. Keeping this quiet will only make things worse in the long run. This will hurt the both of yew and in the end come to no good by keeping this a secret from him. Tell him before he finds out or figures it out from someone else. Yew owe it to yewr mon, ta come clean Ladd. It was a one night stand and it will never happen again, yew tell him this and keep to yewr word and he will trust yew and forgive yew. If yew do noht tell him, yew will lose him. That's a given.//

And it tis also a given that I shall lose him anyway if I tell him I slept with her! 

//It's fear that's speaking Duncan, and stupidity. Let go of yewr fears. Talk to him, ask his forgiveness. He will give it to yew. Remember his words? You are too important to lose. those words, _his_ words. He does not want to lose yew either, not ever again. The guilt is already killing yew. Tell him, and the pain will end, and yew will know for good that he loves yew, because I know he will forgive yew. Let him decide. Don't make the choices for him as well as for yewrself. Let him make the choice, let him choose to forgive yew or toss yew out on yewr arse. It will hurt no matter what route yew take Donnechaide. His trust will be hard to get back, but in time it will be there again.//

I don't know if I can live with that kind of pain right now Connor. I don't know if I can risk losing Methos because of Kate and the night we spent together before yewr De-- so soon after losing yew. 

Connor's sigh filled his ears. //Yew can say it Donnechaide, my death. Say it.//

Duncan's throat closed, he choked back another sob. "Yewr death." he whispered softly.

//That's right Laddy, my death. Take your time Duncan, heal, be comforted, enjoy Methos' warmth, but I advise yew to tell him... tell him soon.//

I will Connor, Connebhar, I will. But not now, not right this minute. 

//Then do not, but soon.//

Yes Connebhar soon, I swear it. Methos is all I have left and he does deserve the truth. I need Methos, I need him, I need Methos. 

//I know Donnechaide, I know. It's all right. Methos will help yew, he will understand. Trust ma Donnechaid, now knock on the door. He's waiting for yew.//

Thank yew Connebhar. 

// Don't thank ma yet Ladd, the true test has yet ta come, thank ma then.//

All right Connor. All right. 

Chilled through and through by the rain and the pain of his grief, Duncan at last reached the last step before the door and raised his hand about to knock or ring the door, when Methos threw open the door and before the Highlander could even clear his throat or open his mouth to speak Methos gathered him up into a hug. Duncan looked into his eyes as they stepped away from each other for a full measuring look.

Then Duncan smiled rather shyly, asking, "I take it I am still welcome as yewr guest?"

Chapter 2

Methos pulled back from Duncan, but still held him. He looked at Duncan closely, touching his face gently right on the cheekbones.

"Guess you can tell I haven't shaved in a day or so."

"Many people show their grief that way. I wish you had called me to join you for Connor's funeral. Good times and bad, Duncan, remember?  
"I remember; but the whole funeral was like a dream to me. I had to get through it. I could not wake up. He's really dead, I- He, he's really dead."

At that, Duncan's voice got a little shaky, exhaustion, grief, and loss was taking its' toll upon him. And that rat-bastard Kell...

"Has Kell's Quickening settled, or is he striking out at you from within?" Asked Methos.

Duncan started. Could Kell still be trying to get his revenge on the MacLeods? Even dead- Could an Immortal's quickening still strike at it's host after being absorbed? It was a concept never before realized. "You know better than I would, Old Man. Though, I've never heard of such a thing."

"Well," explained Methos. "There was never anybody who took heads like Kell, just for the energy. Though I too have never heard of such a things still, He was a "man with a plan." If you get my meaning Mac? But I say fuck him and the horse he rode in on. I'm glad you sent him to hell. Could you imagine HIM winning The Prize?" laughed Methos. "Oh, yeah, let's discuss this in the door jam in the rain." He said sarcastically, "Come on inside, Duncan. I have plans for you this evening, Lover."

Duncan looked startled, wondering what Methos meant by that. He didn't feel ready to make love to this fascinating and beautiful man, not after all the crap he'd lived through in the last few weeks, or even after having cheated on this man he loved so much, so much more than his own life. What had possessed him to do what he had done?

Connor's voice was silent for the moment. But Duncan could feel the spirit's disapproval. Hastily Methos reassured his errant beloved, "Not THOSE kind of plans, Duncan; I have missed you. But what I really want to do right this minute is just take care of you. You took care of me through all my bullshit. I just want your company and to make you feel a little bit better." So much better. I want to run my hands up and down your lovely skin and hold you tight forever and never let you go. Methos restrained himself knowing that now was not the time for such displays of need, want and love. Methos pulled Duncan in through the doorway giving him another brief hug. Then he picked up Duncan's bag and ushered him into the comforting warmth of the living room.

"I have a low fire going in the living room as well as in the reading room. Where shall I escort you to?" he asked and paused waiting for a reply but Duncan was silent, his mind elsewhere for the moment, so Methos babbled on. "Personally I wouldn't mind spending some more time in the reading room, but you look like you could use a bite to eat or maybe a hot drink in your hand to warm you up from the inside out. Goodness! I've never seen you wear so much clothes in my life? Are you cold sweet heart?"Duncan bit his lip than sighed, "Aye, I'm freez'n."

Oh dear! Methos flinched a little. It was worse than he thought. Duncan was still suffering from shock, or guilt, or else, deep, deep, loss and misery. He couldn't stop a stab of pity to enter his heart. Duncan would need his kindness and compassion a lot more than Methos had originally planned for.

"Please allow me to take care of you, Love." He said as he helped Duncan out of his over coat and hung it up. Duncan lowered his head in shame. He was not use to being pampered or anyone taking care of him. It was usually the other way around.

Suddenly Duncan hugged Methos fiercely, whispering in a choked voice. "I love you so much Methos."

Methos patted his hands. "I know Duncan, I know." But it didn't keep you from sleeping with her, did it? Save it for later old man. He needs you now. Don't be petty. He's home and he's safe. Well as safe as he can be with that serpent still alive and around. She's trouble. But Duncan's depression for the time being was more dangerous. He had to do damage control and give Duncan a reason to live. I won't leave you Lover, no matter what. I will always be here for you. If a thousand years go by and you fall in love with any other, as long as you returned to me I will always welcome you back, my truest love.

Duncan walked into the living room, and stood for a second. He took in the homely charms of the place. This was what he missed the most when he was in Scotland and again chasing down Kell and Connor. He was home, this warm comfortable place, with all it's books and lounging furniture. He felt grounded, all of a sudden. He was happy to be here at long last. He was home. Methos was fussing, not too much, though, just enough to make him feel how much he was loved and had been missed.  
Oh, dear God, how do I tell him? He's never been this nice to me before or so understanding. How do I find it within maself to tell him the crime I have done against him? Where's a scarlet letter brand? I would brand maself and show him that way. Actions have always suited ma better than words. But even action has gotten ma into trouble with Methos before. Adulterer! Slut! Whore! How could you have done this to Methos, the love of your immortal life?

//Donnechaide, don't do this! Stop picturing the mohn running yew through with his blade. Aye, he will be upset. But I seriously doubt he will do violence to yew//. Said Connor. //Yew fret over much//.

It is because I know what Methos is capable of, and yew dearest kinsman, do noht!

//That may be Lad, but the one thing that I do know of about him is that ee does love yew something fierce. I also know ee has a compassionate heart. Ee was once a doctor after all. And ee has forgiven yew for much over the years. Do yew really think ee cannah forgive this latest blunder?//

It may be the last straw Connobhar. The straw that breaks this particular camel's back.

Connor's spirit sighed. //Yew make a valid and very good point there kinsmon. Still, I think yew make it out o' fear rather than logic.//

Duncan was brought out of his thoughts and mental argument with Connor by Methos' strained and concerned voice.

"Duncan? Duncan, would you please, please, PLEASE, sit down. Your swaying is making me seasick."

"I'm NOT swaying." Protested Duncan, than reluctantly he was forced to agree with his fussing mate, "Well, maybe a little." He conceded as he grabbed for the chair's back to steady him-self.

After that Duncan made his way to the black leather couch. The smell of cologne and musty, musky, leather made him feel good. It also brought back a very heady memory. They had made love on this couch just before he had felt the urgent need to find his kinsman. Now he wished he had never left. He wished he could go back and just stay on that couch with Methos loving him, hard and inside of him. Duncan sank deep into the cushions and let the memory play out for a moment or two more, before reluctantly forcing it completely from his mind. Shaking the memory from his thoughts, he rubbed his right hand wearily over his face in a gesture of nerves and exhaustion. He felt like his skin was drawn too tight. Like his four hundred plus years had finally caught up with him. And that he was dying under the weight and experiences of that age.

His hair was longer than it had been and it was too loose. He couldn't keep it in a tie. It just hung half in, half out. Glad Methos loves me he thought I feel SO attractive right now Sarcasm was such an ugly thing, but he could not help himself. Somehow, he just couldn't keep himself from crying, or the black moods from over taking him. Stubble, sleepless nights, red rimmed eyes from too much crying; He was turning into such a depressed crybaby. He was done in. How did he still have any energy left, to keep on going?

Methos pulled up the footstool next to the couch, and then picked up one, then the other of Duncan's feet. "Methos, I don't need you to take my shoes off. Christ, do you think I can't handle undressing?"

"Oh, stop. Lean back and shut up. You're done in, and you know it. Don't protest so much, Lover. Let me take care of you. I know you can undress yourself, but let me do it this one time. Let me take care of you." He repeated, gently.

Quietly Duncan sighed, then complied with his lover's command. He nodded his head conceding to the master of self -indulgence. Doing as he was told, he then closed his eyes leaning far back into the buttery soft leather of the couch, as Methos removed his shoes and began to gently rub his right, then left foot. Methos knuckles grazed the insides of the arches of his feet, then needed his fingers into the meatier parts of the aching feet. Getting the circulation going and easing the pain away with his massaging. Even in socks it felt so good. Soft and firm and just so relaxing. Almost, Duncan felt like he was floating; he breathed deeply once, his head resting against the couch's backrest and then he surprised himself by passing into a sort of waking sleep.

The sleeping Duncan turned towards Connor, who was sitting in the chair next to the fire. Connor looked so good, so real and so solid. Connor back among the living with his head back on his neck, so real, so alive. He wanted to talk to him about Methos, ask him...ask him...He came to awareness with a jump. He was several shirts lighter and felt warmer than he had been in weeks. With another pang Duncan became aware once again that Connor was dead. His ghost though, seemed to be haunting him. Duncan knew he was losing his mind. He was trying to fight against it but it was so hard. He didn't want Connor to be dead. He didn't want Kell to have been real or Kate either.

Going insane never helped matters, it only tended to make things worse, though oblivion and nothingness had its' own siren song and it was singing to him with the sweetest of tunes. Moments, passing and fleeting. We live we die. I killed Connobhar and I slept with Kate. I'm not even good enough to be dirt on Methos' dirtiest pair of worn out hiking boots.

"Was I out of it or what?" he asked no one in particular, laughing shakily. "Methos you have the most magical hands I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Gosh, I haven't felt this relaxed in so long. That flight was a nightmare. I don't think I ever want to ride on another air plane ever again, for as long as I live."

Methos chuckled at that declaration then leaned up to give Duncan a quick peck on the lips. "I'll get you something warm to drink now." He said, smiling. "I think the kettle may be ready for pouring. I didn't think after all that travelling that alcohol would be the way to go; hope you don't mind some tea with lots and lots of cream and sugar. You need some rest, and tea always seems to relax you. It shouldn't, you know, but it does."

"Know that about me, eh?" Duncan asked, playfully.

"You know it, Highlander." Said Methos, bopping Duncan gently on the head, as he stretched to his feet. Than he walked out of the room and towards the kitchen. Duncan's comfort the sole thing on his mind. He hummed to himself as he prepared the tea pot and cups on a tray, and put some small cakes and sandwiches on a platter for Duncan to pick and choose from; all of them, Duncan's favorites. Methos than poured the boiling water into the small delicate blue and white china pot decorated with majestic and gracefully flying Asian dragons. He smiled. This particular pot had been a gift from Duncan three years ago. It had been given to him during their time of estrangement. A gift carefully wrapped and lovingly cushioned with Styrofoam peanuts, and sent through the mail from a long distance away. Even then his Duncan had been thinking about him. Methos adored this pot, only because Duncan had given it to him. Personally he rather liked a little more color and pizzazz than elegance in his crockery. Carefully he balanced both trays than walked through the swinging door and made his way to the living room and to the coffee table between chair and couch. Duncan was shivering from another chill, even with the fire roaring and the room now in the 80's range of temperature, the Highlander was freezing.

"Here love drink this. Careful now, it's hot."

Duncan clasped both hands around the delicate teacup, drawing as much heat from it as possible than carefully he sipped from it. Color suffused his cheeks and lips. Duncan was soon looking a little more thawed than when he had first come into the room or even after his foot massage.

An idea came to Methos just then. Duncan could use a nice steaming bath. Why didn't I think of that earlier? Because, once you have him naked you will be hard put to stop yourself from making love to him, Idiot, that's why. replied his more annoying asinine inner voice. Oh shut up! I can control myself just fine. Besides, Duncan needs more thawing and more relaxation. What better way to relax him and heat him up than by giving him a scented bath? No annoying voice made any reply. Methos smirked at himself than put thoughts into action.

He waited only long enough for Duncan to finish his tea and a cake and a finger sandwich before dragging his reluctant love into the bathroom for a Jacuzzi like experience.

Methos dashed in a few tablespoons of scented powder. Fragrance of spice and soft relaxing sweetness filled the steamy air. Duncan slid into the large tub and allowed Methos to bathe him with rags and soap and scrub brush, as well as a rubber ducky floating in the water making the occasional "quack-quack" sound, which never failed to make Duncan laugh at the old man's antics. Methos was easily amused by a lot of things in life and unfortunately for Duncan, Ducky was one of them. Duncan didn't believe that full-grown men should have bath toys, it was just too undignified. But Methos loved his cute little bath toy and Duncan could not persuade him to be rid of it, kind of like one of Methos' old ratty sweaters.

The man loved to live in comfort rather than in style. Methos hands rubbed along his tightly stressed muscles relieving the tensions there. Duncan was soon shaking with suppressed emotions. A tear escaped his eye. Methos kissed the tear away than showered more kisses over Duncan's forehead, eyelids, cheeks and lips. Lovingly caressing the golden and flushed warrior. Methos was soon kissing Duncan ardently and was reaching down to touch Duncan's most sensitive parts, when Duncan captured his hand and stopped him. Methos tried to protest this action on Duncan's part, his tongue slipping out of Duncan's mouth, he didn't want to be rejected. Methos wanted to make love to his wounded warrior. But Duncan would not let him. Duncan stiffened, and not in a good way.

"Don't. Don't please." he gasped. "I cannah, it's too much."

Methos bit down on his own initial reaction which was to force Duncan to submit, either by coaxing loving words or a more physical approach. But looking into his anguished beloved's eyes he knew it was too soon. He couldn't hurt Duncan by taking what he wanted from his lover. It was either consensual all the way or no sex at all. That was one of their rules. It was a rule he was very close to breaking, weeks of separation and only his hand to make love to, it had been cruelly lonely and horrid, but he would not break this rule for the world.

Trust was so much the big issue between them. Duncan was still not use to the ways of men loving each other. Duncan still had some deep-rooted reservations, but he never let it interfere in loving Methos, and Methos understood that. Methos understood that when Duncan said, "NO", no matter how it sounded or when it was said, Methos knew Duncan meant it. "No" meant "No" and that would always be final. Why Duncan was this way, Methos could only ponder. Perhaps, at one time, early on in his life, Duncan had been raped by or else had a close call with a man, which still scared him four hundred years later to today. Either way, when that one word was spoken that was it.

"All right Duncan. I understand. It's all right love. You're safe here. You know I will not force this. I love you and though I yearn to make love to you I understand. Sex is not necessary for me to love you. I can love you without it for as long as you need me to. I promise."

Duncan fought against more tears. I don't deserve him. I'm so ashamed. Ee's too good to ma. I'm noh worthy enough for him. Ee deserves so much more. Ee deserves someone so much better than ma.

Connor's presence comforted him, wrapping him up in a warm ethereal embrace.

"I love yew Methos and I want yew, really I do. I…" his words trailed off than suddenly he was fiercely kissing his lover, trying to muster up all his passion and give himself once more to Methos. He wanted to make Methos happy. However, Methos pulled away.

"No Highlander," he murmured softly, finishing up washing the Scot's beautiful thick wavy curly hair. "You're tired. And you're not ready for our favorite activity. Come on let's rinse you off and get you ready for bed."

Dully Duncan replied. "Yes Methos."

Don't show me compassion show me not your understanding. I'm undeserving of it. How can you still love me? Touch me? Want me? I gave ma body to another. I loved her once, but I love Methos now. I belong to Methos now. He has the right to claim me if he wants to. It was wrong of ma to interfere with his need. I let maself make love to someone other than ma lover. Oh Methos, I deserve not your love nor your precious and so rare sympathy. I deserve only your cruel mockery and anger. I was faithless to you. I did not keep our oath. Yew deserve someone brilliant and worthy of yew, old mohn, someone smart and loyal and deep unlike this hollow, shallow shell of a mohn who sits before you in all his unworthiness.

//Gradaech, yew are being too hard on yewrself, Donnechaide, stop wallowing. It's not very pretty.//

I know that tis noht. I am stupid and hide-bound and stubborn, and I did the unforgivable. I'm a slut! He deserves so much better than ma. All the pain I've caused him. All the worry!

//Stop this. Stop this right now.// roared Connor. Duncan flinched. Methos' eyes did not fail to see this action.

Concerned, Methos asked. "Duncan, is something wrong?"

Duncan shook his head. The truth slipping free from him. "No, just Connobhar yelling at ma."

Methos took in a sharp breath. "What do you mean Duncan? Connor is dead. He can't be talking to you, he's gone on to a better place." Not that I believe in an afterlife, but anything to ease Duncan. I would say and do anything to help him.

Duncan blushed and lied. "I know thot. It twas only memory, that is all. Just a memory."

Methos knew Duncan was lying but let it go. Duncan wasn't ready to admit to any problems and right now badgering the poor Scot would do no good.

"All right Duncan." He sighed. "Let's get you dried off, shall we?"

Drying Duncan off vigorously with a pair of towels, he then clothed Duncan in a warm pure white, very soft bath-wrap/robe. Methos then led Duncan back out of the green and blue mosaic tiled bathroom, out into their large master bedroom. He then sat Duncan down on some pillows by the vanity mirror where Methos than began to brush out the Highlander's raven black and extremely soft hair. Duncan sighed and leaned back against Methos' chest. Feeling the haven of Methos' arms around him, Duncan at long last was truly able to relax and he felt safe, protected, cherished. And he felt guilty as hell.

Chapter 3

Duncan sat up, suddenly aware that he was not in Seacover and that he was not sparring with his teacher. Methos stopped stroking his sweat dampened hair, and looked at him, long and piercing. "I know I don't know what you're going through, personally nor can I even remotely comprehend what it is you're going through, but I do know it hurts. You should speak of it. These dreams are killing you." He said. Resuming stroking of Duncan's hair. Duncan sighed and reveled for a short moment in his lover's touch, before guilt and shame and grief struck him down once more.

"Oh, Methos," he said half sob, "I loved him longer than anyone else in the world. He gave me my life back. He gave me a way of life, cleared my confusion with enlightenment. He filled ma heart once more with joy. He was everything I looked up to in a mohn. He was so much more to ma than my own father. Connor was all I had left to carry ma on through the years. He never died. He was never cruel to me, stern yes, his jokes, his horrid jokes, yes. He was never angry or cast ma out of his life. He was Kin and teacher and father, and he WAS everything to ma. He was everything worth living for, when all the rest o' them died he was there. When ma heart was too heavy an, I couldnah go on, he was there, with his understanding and his compassion and his love for ma! He made ma see life and look past one year to the next and made ma feel curious of the future to come. How could he just give up? How could he make ma do that?" Suddenly Duncan slapped his hands over his mouth. "Noh!" he cried horrified by his slip of the tongue. The sound muffled only a little by his hands. "Noh! I will noh be angry with him, tis wrong ta be angry with the dead."

"Be angry Duncan. Let it out, so that you can carry on, as he would want you to carry on, Love."

"Noh! I will noht!" hissed Duncan stubbornly and horribly stricken.

"You don't think he was lucky to have YOU in his life?" growled Methos, shaking Duncan by the shoulders to get his point across. Before Duncan's eyes once again Connor's spirit manifested. Connor seemed to be agreeing with Methos. Duncan shook his head in further denial.

"I can't Methos. When I took his head it was like something really big, like my heart, was torn out. This man was vital was important to me. Why Methos, why?"

"You don't think it gave him comfort to know somebody from the world HE grew up in was still around? Oh Duncan. Part of me is so angry at him for doing this to you, but the other part of me understands absolutely that HE COULD NOT face living in a world without you in it. He would've been devastated. He'd faced the loss of his wife, his children, other friends, you were the unacceptable loss. This I can relate to. You are also for me the unacceptable loss. Let me love you Duncan."

"I can't Methos. I did something really, really, bad." Said the anguished Highlander, his voice coming out small, like a child's. He was unable to look his best friend and lover in the eye.

Methos shook his head. "You did nothing wrong Duncan. You only did as he asked of you." Said Methos, pretending not to know the other reason behind Duncan's sudden confession of terrible behavior.

"If so, than why does he noht rest in peace, Methos? I see him everywhere. Does it surprise you to know he still talks to me? That I can hear him, see him, talk to him?" asked Duncan suddenly wild in the eyes. "That I just saw him? Is this normal Methos? My teacher is dead and I, and I, he's gone. My mentor, my father, is dead. Do you think that this is grief, or, hey, maybe I'm losing it big time?"

The subject of the demon Ahriman was left unspoken between them, it was a subject which neither one of them had ever tried to bring up in conversation nor tried to puzzle out or make mention of. That time had been so frightening for the both of them, a time of pain and walls between them, a time of confusion and more hurt feelings. Methos had been afraid for Mac and Mac had been afraid for himself as well as for Methos. And they both had been horribly afraid of his feelings for the other.

Methos paused and measured his words carefully. He wanted to nip this thing in the bud NOW, before Duncan got fixated on the idea of Ghost-Connor.

"I don't believe you're insane Duncan. I think you're exhausted and in a lot of pain and feeling a lot of remorse and shame and guilt. I'm going to tell you something now and I hope this will help you. When I had to take Silas, it was the most devastating Quickening I had ever endured. Yes, endured. I felt his sense of my betrayal and his anger at me, but also, and to the depth of what he was, his love, his abiding love for me. He was in my dreams for a long time...I saw events we had both lived, through HIS eyes...I was afraid to sleep but also afraid to let him go. To let him fade would be killing him a second time and it had been unbearable. In the end, he loved me enough to let me go, and to leave on his own. Connor loved you very much Duncan. He obviously wants to help you deal with your grief. Help ease you into his passing."

Duncan's face showed his unease. "You believe me?"

"Yes I do. Isn't that what I was saying just moments ago?"

Duncan bit his lip and nodded uncertainly. "Yes Methos, it is. But, Methos What if it's more than that? What if…what if Connobhar is haunting ma for some other reason?" (Duncan was amazed still at how well Methos was taking his confession of seeing ghosts. He had almost expected the oldster to jump out of bed and run for the hills. But than came to mind that Methos could be extremely loyal, could squelch his own impulses to flee in order to save his beloved.) Then venturing the words he most feared of all. He said, "Or, or maybe I'm just finally losing ma mind?" Afraid to hear an answer on that particular question, he than quickly changed the subject by demanding, "Why didn't you ever tell ma about Silas?"

"We weren't talking at the time; and anyway, I felt it was something I had to handle alone. I don't want you to handle this alone Duncan. This was a death you did not seek, you did not want, but you will have to endure. My only advise is to remember how much he loved you."

At that Duncan fell back against his pillows and shut his eyes for just a moment. Letting things sink in. Methos arms still wrapped around him, holding him, giving him comfort. Duncan's eyes cracked open and saw Connor in the low firelight, by the hearth at the end of their bed, with a slight smile on his lips and a nod towards Methos. Connor spoke to his cousin in soft words.

//You must tell him, Donnechaid. He will understand. You won't be right yourself until you tell him.//

Methos ached to do more than just hold his highlander but he knew Duncan wasn't ready for more, not yet, with a sigh Methos closed his own eyes and kissing Duncan'' cheek he whispered. "Sleep love, all will be well in time."

The same dreams night after night, being kicked and punched and disturbed all through the hours of the night, after two weeks of this, Methos' patience was beginning to thin. He was tired and needed his own sleep as well, but yet with his feelings regarding Duncan being ones of comfort and protection, Methos could not sleep as deep as he usually did. He was always on alert and not just for other Immortals but for Duncan's nightmares and restless sleeping behavior. He just hoped it wouldn't be for too much longer. Classes would be resumed shortly and it was too late to get a sub in for this semester's courses.

"Sleep undisturbed and be protected Love, I am here, be at ease, I will never let any one hurt you, not ever again." He promised.

Another two weeks later….

How long can this possibly go on? Wondered Methos irritably. It wasn't that he objected to holding Duncan, or snuggling or cuddling. Methos truly loved Mac and enjoyed very much the times when his Highlander would let him take care of him and hold on to him. But it was driving him bonkers not to be able to do more with Mac, like making love to him. Of all things that Methos loved most about Mac was love making. There was no one more sensual, more responsive, or sexier than Duncan before and during and after sex. Celibacy was not an impossible thing for Methos. After all, he had gone without sex for long periods of time in his life before. But for some reason, not being able to make love to Duncan was truly driving him out of his mind.

Great, now there's going to be two more crazy Immortals out loose in this world. Said the snarky part of his brain. There you go again, being selfish again. Is celibacy really so bad? You've done it before, you can survive doing it again. "Oh shut up." He grumbled to himself and letting out another long mournful sigh.

Duncan was currently turning and tossing and muttering in his sleep. None of it sounded good. Here we go again, another nightmare. Owch! That was my face, he just whacked! Owch, not the shin! Owch! Oh gods, thank you for making me Immortal because I won't be bruised in the morning or in any pain. But goddammit! Macleod! I wish you would just stop doing this to yourself and to me. Just get the truth out and you and I will be so happy. And then I would get laid! 

Jeeze! Said a voice sounding very much like Joe Dawson's voice in his head. Is that all you can think about? Getting laid? What kind of man are you? You're being selfish. Duncan has suffered a terrible loss. There is nothing more painful nor something so terrible as losing one's teacher. Scolded Joe. "Yeah, yeah, I know all that already." He grumbled aloud, luckily Mac was not awakened by his grumbles. Continuing the monologue in his own head. I've been told about it often enough and not just about Mac's experience but other Immortals' experiences as well, not that I can recall ever experiencing the loss of my own teacher whether to my own sword or to someone elses. But I do know what it is like to take a Brother's quickening, two brothers' quickenings, if I count the joint one with Mac on Kronos, and my own pain and trauma of it. Which Methos really didn't want think about or analyze right now about.

The snarky, bratty, selfish part of him cried out betrayal. Where was he for you? Where was Duncan when you suffered this pain? You know very well that at the time, I could not bare being anywhere near my Highlander. I could not face the fact that I chose him over my brothers, no matter that I loved Duncan best. After the Horsemen incident, I hated myself and I hated Mac and I hated Cassandra and her need for revenge. I hated the fact that I had to choose between my brothers and my Lover. Her undying hatred of Me, her obsession with the horsemen and her own personal hurts caused all of us to suffer. There has never been a more selfish woman in all of my life, which I regret ever having met or helped into the Immortal life. Not even Cleopatra or Medea or even Helen had the kind of drive for vengeance that Cassandra had. Nor do they bring me the same feelings of anger and regret that I feel having known her has given me. 

I left Duncan to allow us both time to heal. It hurt to leave him, but it also hurt being near him. So we became estranged. You know I didn't give him a chance to comfort me. Silly Methos, you know it's true, all your pain all of your hurt you brought upon yourself, and you know it. Now I will do all that is in my power to comfort him, to make things right between us again. I will not lose him. I might be a little angry with him still, and I might even have dreams of punishing him soon, but I do not want to lose him. I will do all that I can to make him feel safe, protected, loved, cherished, and most of all help him to become mentally sound again. 

Oh bravo, bravo, great speech there Methos pal, but I mean really, it's a joke. You weren't able to help him when he killed Richie were you? You weren't able to give him love or comfort. He rejected you, just like he's doing now. You're a fool Methos, a fool! cried his more cynical and somewhat Kronos sounding voice in his head.

Oh shut up! I will not have my doubts destroy my relationship with Mac. I will not let the selfish part of me screw this one good thing in my life up. I wont let you destroy this for either of us, Duncan or Me. There is no "I" in "We" or in "Couple" and that's what me and Mac are. We're a couple. We are a We. We love each other and we will survive this. Even if I have to beat some sense into his bloody stubborn mulish Scottish head! I will not lose him to this or to any other tragedy. Nor will I just stand by and lose him to Kate. Oh no, I will not, I can fight for what's mine if I need to. If it's important enough, and Mac is important to me. He is my every thing. He's the laughter and the joy in my soul. He forces me to reach out from my shell again and embrace the world and all life around me. If I lose him, I lose my reason for being good. I lose my reason for living, though I will not seek my death nor kill my self if I lose him. No way! I'm not that mellow- dramatic, nor that foolish! But I will leave this world and hole up somewhere till the gathering has ended and then I will come back down and face the last Immortal and take the stupid putz's head, see if I wont! Even if the last Immortal turns out to be Duncan. I'll kill the jerk! But somehow I've got to believe I will not lose him to her.

Duncan loves me. He even said so. He says so, every morning as we wake and every night before we fall asleep. Just because we haven't had sex doesn't mean he doesn't love me or desire me. He's just in a lot of emotional and mental anguish. It will get better with time. I know it will. 

Then sighing he punched his pillow and gathered the now still Duncan back up into his arms and held him, snuggling deeply under the covers and pressing skin to skin to his beloved Highlander, Methos at long last fell asleep.

A few more days later…

Duncan Macleod was still moping around. He was deep in his world of depression. He slept for hours or else didn't move from his chair bundled in sweaters, the fire lit and still roaring hot. Yet it still couldn't touch him. Methos seemed to be the only thing keeping him alive or even remotely warm. His body seemed to derive heat only from Methos, as well as any comfort to be given. His heart and mind were at war with one another. His balance was precarious at best. And the dreams, the dreams never seemed to end.

He was tormented by images of Connor forever dead. Reliving that terrible night when he had taken Kate back into his bed, though perhaps not back into his heart. Yet, the old feelings had risen up and choked him with need at the first sight of her, the need to set things right between them once again, and his need to love her. She was his wife. He had loved her once upon a time, had pledged eternity to her, knowing full well that eternity was possible for them. Though later his feelings were tempered by confusion and outrage, by Connor's death and by Kate's betrayal. And his realization of how much, he was really, truly, in love with Methos.

He was drifting back into that place of numbness, that world of dreams and terror. He blinked several times trying to force his eyes to stay open, stubbornly fighting against his sudden need for sleep, but eventually he lost the battle and sleep lay claim to him. His head fell back on the couch's rest, the fire crackling, the small TV quietly playing its' newest program on the Gourmet Chef Channel. It wasn't long before the dreams began.

"Noh! Connor donnah make ma, please." He begged. "Please donnah make ma do this. I cannah bare it."

He was again on the roof of his hotel, in his silk jammies, Connor in his brown duster coat. "There can be only one, Donnechaide. Only one! And if you will not be it than I will. We have noh choice, either it tis Kell or it tis us." Growled Connor. His sword arm fell like his pronouncement upon his kinsman.

Duncan blocked it, just barely but with his choice to live so sealed the fate of Connobhar Macleod of the Clan Macleod.

"Kin-slayer!" Roared the Clan. "Kin-slayer!"

"NOH!!!" He screamed in denial and agony as Connor's quickening turned to mist and swept up in the gale-like gusts of the coming storm. Lightening and quickening energy struck Duncan Macleod full force, reeling backward he fell and sobbed as the energy pounded into him like the most painful of fist fights or repetitive sword thrusts. It was a very powerful quickening almost as powerful as the Horsemen, as Kronos' and Caspian's own.

"NOOOO!"

Connnnnooooor!"

Methos came running in from the garden, he was thankful classes didn't start for another two days, maybe by that time Duncan would get this thing under control.

"Hush Love, hush I am here. It's just a nightmare. Only a dream, it cannot hurt you any more." He said as he wrapped his arms around the sleeping highlander, his lips brushing Duncan's cheeks in soft kisses, then whispered more comfort in his friend, his beloved's ear. "It was wrong of him to do that to you, but it's over now, it's in the past. You survived it. Don't feel this shame any more, it's not yours to carry. Let it out. Let it go Love."

At the sound of Duncan's pleading whimpers and anguishing cries deeply hurt and disturbed him. He didn't want Duncan to feel this pain any more. He wanted Duncan to become well and his old self again. Even if that other had been a little cocky and a little arrogant and a little self-righteous. But Duncan was also playful, charming, amusing and so full of life and love and passion. This new Duncan was just a shade. A frightened, broken, sad shade.

"Wake up Duncan. Please let it go and wake, Love. Wake up please."

He murmured in Duncan's ear holding his highlander as tears gushed, from both their eyes and soaking Methos' t-shirt and Duncan's layer-clad shoulder. Duncan seemed to now enjoy being clothed from head to foot and covered so that not even an inch of flesh could be seen other than his face and hands. Bared skin was a distress for Macleod, obviously it was his guilt reaction to the whole one -night stand thing, with the X-wife.

Duncan did not wake but fell deeper into his dreams. He was now in the Highlands of Scotland, standing outside the dilapidated ruins of a castle, which had once belonged to his cousins Connobhar and Heather Macleod, exiles of the Clan Macleod. The shore smelled as usual of salt and ocean birds, rotting seaweed and discarded shells. Duncan felt at home, but for the sudden ache of aloneness and sadness, which overflowed and crowded out the good feelings. This wasn't his home, it had never been his home, it had been Connor's home and only a haven that Duncan had been grateful for, this wasn't his home nor his haven, not any more. This was not a shelter, and he had not used it as one in over three hundred and seventy nine years. This was Connobhar's home and a place where Duncan had been invited to stay during their training days. But here it was 2003 the Castle was little more than stone and ruin.

He found himself walking a long the grassy knolls, heading towards the cliff side. As he walked he could see the outlines of the new stones on Heather and Connor's graves, standing alone in the near distance, where cliff met sky they stood proudly. The sun seemed to be setting and day was turning to night, there should have been color but nothing was bright nothing was beautiful, it was cold and gray. He couldn't help but muse how like his life this symbol seemed. The twilight hours between dusk and dawn, what should be magical moments were instead sun less. The dusk settling like the sun in his dream it seemed it was setting into this oppressive thing of darkness and night.

Will I never be allowed happiness? He wondered dully. Will I never get a chance to get ma act together? What was it that was so awful in ma life that I would be forever cursed? Once ma life gets settled some new crisis is always cropping up. Some new tragedy on the move and ready to enter it and turn it once again upside down. Couldn't Kell or Connobhar have waited, like say a hundred years or more, when ma own life had settled and had gotten really boring? Then maybe I could have handled it a little bit better. But no, the stuff hit the fan and now I'm paying for it, again! Maybe that was just plain selfishness talking, but he couldn't handle it. This had been the last straw that had broken the camel's back. This had broken him. He couldn't bare it. And Methos? What about Methos, he deserved so much more, so much better than this broken used up carcass that was all that was left of the original Duncan Macleod of the Clan Macleod. He thought melodramatically.

Everything froze, not quite night and not quite day, Connobhar all frilled up and in older clan colors appeared before him.

"Why are yew noht at rest Connobhar? Didn't I dew all thot yew asked o' ma? Why will yew noht leave ma alone?"

It seemed that here for the moment Connor's spirit could not answer him. Connor showed him a face drawn and haggard with pain and tears and great heavy sadness. The ages had always been written upon Connobhar's soul. A very deep man was Connor, or rather had been. An old soul, not just that he had been five hundred or so years old or that he carried the weight of so many other Immortal's souls, but that Connor had always had deep sad gray eyes. The kind of eyes that seemed to say, "I've seen it all and none of it ended happily."

"Oh Connobhar I cannah bare it. Please kinsman do noh weep. Why are yew so sad? Why are yew noh with yewr bonny Heather, and yewr sassy Brenda and yewr beloved daughter, Rachel? Why do yew haunt ma Connobhar? IS it that yew want ma to let it go and be happy?" He paused as if waiting for the spirit to speak and when no sound was forth coming Duncan continued. "Happy that yew're dead?!" He scoffed. A sneer curled his lips and rage burned in his eyes. "How can I be happy when yew're dead and I am at fault for it? Don't yew dare tell me tis because there can be Only One, if yew say it I will noh listen. I will noh forgive it. I was yew're instrument for suicide. If I still believed as I once did in ma youth the rigged teachings of the church, I would name yew dammed, dammed to eternity Connobhar. I still struggle with those beliefs. I wake up and I scream NOH! Don't yew dare burn'm, he's a gewd mohn. Please God donnah send ma cousin ta Hell! Obviously He has noht, for yew are still with ma. What has death taught yew Connobhar? Yew are noht at rest, are yew? Why are yew here?" he repeated, demanded. Voice choking on a new bout of sobs. "Why are yew here?"

Connor sighed sadly. "It is true that I have noht found ma rest or ma peace in death as yet, but I know in ma heart that it was the right thing ta do, though it caused yew great anguish and pain and I am guilty for causing yew that. I am so sorry for yewr pain Duncan. Yew must know that? How truly sorry I am for all o' it?"

"Aye, Yes, I know, I know, Connobhar. Truly I do know how sorry yew are. But it doesn't make it all better. It doesn't make the pain any less. Sorry's noh good enough this time Connor. Yew're dead!" he screamed outraged, pained. "I was the sword that K-k-"

"Yew can say it Duncan, yew need to say it."

"Shut up Connobhar!" He screamed, "Donnah interrupt ma!" Then a pause for a deep breath, then he continued, "Yes, I can say it, but can I face what yew have asked ma ta do?" he asked. "Am I strong enough to stand this? No, Connobhar, noh more. I cannah bare it." He sobbed. "I Killed yew! I killed yew." He howled, falling to his knees, blood smeared hands covering his face. Trying to lock in the wailing and the shedding of his tears as they flooded once more down his face.

"Kin-slayer!" screamed the voices of the clans again. "Kin-slayer."

"Noh! Noh!" denied Duncan in anguish, "Ee made ma do it." He accused, pointing his finger at the ghost of his teacher. "Ee made ma do it." He cried.

He felt for the barest of instants the softest and coldest of touches and knew it was Connor touching him from beyond the grave. He shivered from the chill as well as from the fear. His teacher's ghost had touched him.

"Aye, Lad, let it out. Let it all out. Methos is with yew now. Let'm help yew Donnechaide, please let him help yew. He wants to. He loves yew so much, so very, very, much."

"Leave ma alone!" screamed Duncan, jerking away from his kinsman's touch and flinching away from his words. "I betrayed'm! Ee shouldn't love ma. Noh one should love ma. They all die Connobhar. They all die, even the Immortals and some of them at ma own hands. I'm drowning in their blood Connor. These hands, these oafish bloodied hands, how can I touch him with them? I have sinned thrice over, I have murdered, I have committed adultery, and I sleep with a mohn, and let's noh forget that I have dammed yew, Connor. Dammed ma Brother ma Teacher ma Father. How does that get forgiven? How dare I think I am worthy to touch Methos, a worthy a match of Methos, worthy even to live!"

Connor suddenly slammed his fist into Duncan's face. "Don't yew say those things Donnechaide. Yew are worthy! Worthy to live. Worthy to love. God loves yew, He always has, He's gifted yew with so much, so much so that I have on occasion been horribly jealous. Beauty, laughter, charm, and light, and all the luck in the all the world to find love so often and so true and pure in friendships as well as in mates. God gave yew this life and He gave yew yewr gifts and He made yew Immortal fer a reason! And it sure as Hell wasn't fer this reason of self pity and yewr indulgence in this depression."

Duncan Macleod let out his hurt and rage and pain the only way he knew how, he brawled. Methos jerked away as a fist slammed into his face.

"God dammit Macleod!" he roared, snapping out his angry rebuke without much thought. "Wake up you bloody idiot! It's only a dream. Wake the fuck up!" he screamed as another fist went flying for his face. "Fuck! God dammit, that was my bloody nose you little shit! Shit it hurts! Wake up. Wake up this instant."

And this time it was Methos that punched Duncan in the face just as the highlander was waking. Fortunately for Methos his fist didn't do much harm and Duncan was stunned by it rather than knocked out by it.

"Jeesh Methos, what was that for? My God, what happened to yewr nose. Here let ma fix it, Love." He said face all misery and concerned as his hands reached out to Methos to fix the damage they had caused. With a quick snap Methos' nose was set and healed immediately.

"Thank you Duncan. I couldn't wake you in time. Do you want to talk of it?"

"Noh, it was awful I just want ta forget about it."

"Forgetting about it doesn't seem to be making it go away Duncan. You can't go on like this, and neither can I. I need my sleep at night. Classes start in two days Duncan. I won't be here to wake you up or comfort you or get you any tea or sandwiches, there will be no one but you, here, alone. This needs to get resolved Duncan and the only way that's going to happen is if you speak of it."

"Please," begged Duncan, "Give ma more time. I cannah face it right now. Please Methos, I love yew, but donnah make ma speak of it yet, not yet."

Methos sighed, his first instinct was to argue and say "No" but he knew that by forcing it out of him it wouldn't be helping Mac or keep Methos in the Scot's good graces. Looking into the earnest, somber, brown eyes, Methos crumbled.

"All right Love." Said Methos, smiling whimsically, "Whatever time you need, it's yours. I love you Duncan, and whatever I can do to ease your suffering, whatever time you need, you got it. You got it all."

"Thank you Methos."

"You're welcome Love. Now how about we get you all washed up again? You look like you could use another hot scented bath. Maybe bubbles this time?"

Duncan blushed. "No bubbles.

"Oh come on now you know you like it. Those soft warm bubbles tingling all over your skin, making you all soapy and silky."

Duncan's blush burned a little hotter and crept up his face and neck covering his ears, turning them pink. Methos hand movements did not fail to also convey the sexual innuendo, or the craving he had for intimacy.

Embarrassment faded replaced by solemnity and regret. His eyes were drowning pools of sadness and full of regret as he gently pushed Methos' hand away and spoke quietly, saying, "Yew know I'm noh ready for that yet Methos."

Methos sighed. "I know Duncan, I know. But it's been over four weeks since your return. I know these things take time, but I miss you. I miss making love to you, being inside you, touching you. Making you scream my name as you come for me. I never see you naked. I never get to caress your skin any more. We don't luxuriate like we use to, skin on skin lounging around. You're always sad. I don't think I can even recall one single smile since before you left for New York. You're home now Duncan. You're safe and cherished and protected. What is so wrong with me, that you will not let me love you any more? Is there someone else?" He demanded. Stressing the last question as much as possible. His pain for once he was unable to hide from his beloved highlander.

Macleod's startled gaze looked for once directly into his eyes.

"Are you in love with someone else?" asked Methos again, voice a quiet little composed thing.

"I'm sorry, Methos" said Mac.

Methos held his breath, his chest painful from sudden tension.

"I'm sorry for making yew suffer. Yew know there is no one else. Not anyone else. I only love yew, yew silly sot." He growled. His grip on Methos' hand turned possessive.

"Then why wont you talk to me? Why wont you let me love you, touch you? I feel like the air in my lungs has been stolen from me. Like the sun in my orbit has been diminished. And I don't know how to repair either of them. Do I help you at all, Duncan? Are you leaving me and you're too afraid to speak of it?"

"Noh!" Roared Duncan, voice full of conviction and horror. "Noh, Methos! I am noh leaving yew. I love yew. I LOVE YEW, I love yew, yew silly idiot! Dammit! Of course yew've helped ma! I couldnah ask fer a better mate or helpmeet. Yew've been so kind ta ma, so good and understanding of everything. I feel unclean. I feel like I'm noh good enough fer yew. That yew deserve so much more and so much better than ma."

"No Mac, no don't say those things. If anyone's unworthy of you it's me. I was Death. I was an Evil bastard. I did terrible things in my long life Duncan. I can forgive you anything and love you forever, if you just let me. Tell me what is wrong Love. Please just tell me, so that our suffering can end."

Duncan shook his head in misery. Methos sounded so much like Connor at that moment. Pain flared in his heart and the cold seeped in to his bones a little more. Could Methos really forgive him for what he had done? He didn't think so. Duncan couldn't forgive himself, and he knew if things had been the other way around; it would have been a very cold day in HELL before he'd have forgiven Methos his transgressions. Besides, Duncan couldn't even forgive himself, so why would Methos?

//Because Ee loves yew.// growled Connor's stubborn spirit.

Even though Duncan glared at Connor's vaporous spirit, he knew what his kinsman said was true. But Duncan still felt the familiar sting of tears well up once more in his eyes. He was just so miserable.

"Damn these tears! Will they never end?" Duncan hissed. Methos' arms were once more around him, Duncan's head cradled under Methos' pointy chin. They rocked together on the warm little throw rug on the wood floor.

"Come on love, that's it, its only natural to grieve, let it all out, good man. Maybe we should just go to bed and forget the bubble bath tonight, too much temptation, which neither one of us is ready for."

"Aye Methos, that sounds like a gewd idea." Murmured Duncan sniffing and trying to stop his tears from continuing to fall.

Much later they lay on the bed under the covers fully dressed in jammies, Methos in a dark hunter's green and Duncan in a dark indigo blue. They each lay waiting for the other to sleep or speak what was on their mind. Sleep was far from their brain.

"I could go sleep in the guest bedroom." Methos offered, reluctantly.

"Don't" whispered Ducan.

Methos sighed again. "What is the point of sleeping together Mac. I've become nothing more than your security blanket. Sometimes if I'm lucky you'll let me hold you, maybe even kiss you for long amounts of time. But we do nothing else. We don't even talk in this bed let alone laugh in it like we use to. I know you need time, okay, I know that. I just… I just miss you, Duncan, that's all, I just miss you."

Duncan sighed this time and turned onto his side to study his partner and lover's face. He could see the misery and the lines of fatigue.

"Oh Methos, I have been doing you so much wrong lately haven't I? Please don't leave ma alone in this room. I cannah bare sleeping without yew. Yew are right," Duncan admitted, "Yew are ma security. Yew are ma comfort, and yew are ma love, ma only love. If yew need to make love to ma, than do it. I won't mind and it will make yew feel better, do it."

"No, not unless you are ready for it and not before that."

"But yew 'ave needs Methos. I 'ave an obligation to yew as yewr spouse to give yew what yew want, what yew need. It's all right Methos. I wont mind, really."

"Shut up Macleod." Growled Methos, his fury beginning to grow. "We had an agreement with those vows of ours, Duncan. We agreed to Love, Honor, Cherish, and most of all, we don't have sex unless both parties want to. We do not take what we want from the other nor force him to do what we want because of some stupid vow. We don't use each other to get off either. If you are ready to have sex, then and only then do we have sex. You got me Macleod?"

"But."

"No buts. You are not ready and I'm not going to demand that you sacrifice yourself for my momentary sexual needs. Now go to sleep." I will not be your domestic rapist! I gave up that kind of transgression two thousand years ago. I'm never going to return to that kind of behavior ever again; if I can help it! 

A heavy sigh. Then Macleod mumbled. "Yes, Methos."

Chapter 4

Kate sat in her office looking over the photos from the previous day's photo shoots. The newest model was fascinating. He was handsome and right now dressed like a certain Scotsman she recalled with bitter sweet and new bitter memories. Duncan had left her behind, had chosen to go on with his life, choosing to forget his once beloved Katherine. She had thought he was dead as well, but for Kell.

Kell found her then initiated her into his private vendetta against Connor Macleod and by association his kinsman Duncan Macleod, after he had found her worthy and realized the circumstances of her first death.

This was for them a holy war of sorts. A blood feud in the truest and oldest tradition it most certainly was in truth. Together they had watched the two Scots for well over two hundred years. Her hatred of Duncan grew after her shock had worn off. She should have been grateful to him for making her beautiful for all eternity, but she wasn't. What was beauty and eternal youth, when the years passed one by and one's loves grew old and died before one's eyes?

Taking her life on their wedding night, tainting that precious memory with blood and pain, rather than happiness. Her hatred growing with the years, for her rogue spouse, with infidelity after infidelity, ripping her heart asunder. Tessa had been the last and most bitter pill for her to swallow, for Duncan had truly loved her best of all of his other Loves, mortal and Immortal. Kell had been fair with her then broke her over the decades. Tortured her to make her stronger and capable of destroying the monster that had taken her life away. Instead of hating Kell she revered him. Duncan was her monster. He was her mission, and her objective in this life. What he had done was unforgivable.

On the night that she was to seduce Duncan, she thought her feelings for him had died with their wedding night and over the years since it, but she found that she was wrong. She told herself that she must not forget his many, many, infidelities and the broken trust between them, however the minute his hands touched her, his lips drinking from hers, the moist tongue enflaming her, all those forgotten feelings of passion, love and need was sparked a new. Flooding her with their urgencies. She clung to him and ripped her nails across his back as she saw stars. Then she had to leave as her world tilted once more on its axis and nothing was straight any longer in her head. She was loyal to Kell but her heart still loved Duncan. Her body desired her husband.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Nothing was as it seemed. Her plans were destroyed in one moment of weakness. She had failed Kell and she had failed herself. Kell's words ringing in her head as she made a hasty retreat into the elevator. "You are my protégé, my student, I trust you above all others. You will not fail me, my precious one."

But she had, and Kell had fortunately forgiven her. Otherwise she too would have been dead in his harvest on the night of the last meal.

"You must carry on if I fail Kate. Don't let Duncan Macleod trick you again. You are a woman of age and wisdom and control. I know you will not fail me a second time. I am not a careless man Kate and I trust you to pursue this crusade even after I am beheaded, If I am beheaded. You must remember the game. Cat and mouse, he must suffer Kate. Suffer for breaking your heart, for taking you out of your mortal life. He must suffer for killing me if I fall. Is that understood? Do not take his head until the end, when the gathering has come and the last of us have dueled and lost and he and you are left, than and only than can you at last behead him. This is my last wish, my death wish. He must suffer, every Macleod, everyone who has Connor's quickening, they must suffer, suffer eternity!"

Kate swallowed convulsively her master was so intense. Perhaps he was a true messenger of God. She had to keep the faith she mustn't fail him a second time. She would not allow herself to fail Kell, again. She smiled at her teacher adoringly.

"No, I must remember what Duncan did to me. I must remember how his love destroyed my life, and how Kell's love rebuilt it. Duncan, my husband, no longer exists, he never did. He is nothing to me, nothing. I must remember this. Duncan and Connor are the object, the subject, the enemy, they are not anything else, just the wreckers of Kell's life and my own Life. They are why our lives are in ruins. This is the truth I must believe in, that I must hold on to and remember for all Eternity."

Kell smiled proudly at his pupil. "Very good Kate. I know you will succeed if I fail. You give me strength in your belief. Thank you Kate."

"Anything Master." She whispered falling to her knees before him in benediction. He stroked her short, cropped hair and leaned down to kiss her succulent lips, nothing more for either of them, for they adhered to a higher code of morals. Each had taken vows, one to man for life the other to Christ the savior. They could be nothing more to each other than friends, each loving the other in their hearts but not physically intimately. They were student and teacher, the shepherd and the lamb. He then stepped away from her and walked out of their private quarters.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kate sighed returning to her self in her modeling agency office. The photo she held was twisted and crumbled from her death grip and now would be useless for the cover of her magazine. She buzzed her secretary demanding another photo spread be taken of this new model.

"I like him Angela, he's got that otherworldly thing about him which I like best in my models. I want more photos taken, I think I would also like some steamy erotic ones too." She had a sudden idea enter her mind and a cruel frosty smile played across her lips.

Surveillance in this high tech age was so much easier than it had been forty years before. She loved this new Millennium, with its miniature gadgets like microscopic cameras and sound feed. Very expensive but well worth the time and money spent on the creation and deployment of such equipment. These items could go anywhere she wished and had a good radius, a range of one mile. Not even the government had such things yet. She was thinking after she had tested them to the fullest she would later sell them to whichever government would pay the most and make a tidy new fortune for herself.

One of these miniature cameras could go anywhere, namely on an Immortal's coat or in his jewelry, such as a hair pin or in this case a specially crafted replica of a strange ring, which this particular Immortal seemed to wear constantly. It was as if it were a wedding ring or promise ring of some kind. Which he obviously treasured above all other things next to his katana, of course, an Immortal will always treasure his sword above jewelry, it was their only defense against others of their kind.

It had been amazingly simple and easy to slip Duncan the fake, a ring with the camera and sound feed in it. Duncan had been asleep and worn out from taking Kell's quickening as well as his Kinsman's own.

She felt a twinge of pity for him. She could not remember a time when Connor had not been so very important to Duncan. They couldn't even get married without the fair-haired man's approval. Taking Connor's quickening had in a very real and very deep way destroyed her x-spouse. But Kell's last words to her, his last directive for her was to make Duncan suffer and that's what she intended to do.

Loving Duncan had cost her everything. She had lost her past and now she had lost her present to him as well. Kate had Duncan tracked all over the world after that. From Scotland now to England and it was here that Duncan was settled. Was in fact housed with another Immortal, this time a male, of which she knew nothing about and could find even less information about from her resources. This new Immortal was an enigma to her. He was also an unknown quantity, he could be the destruction of Kell's plans or the final victory, the ace she needed to make Duncan pay. She had his new home being surveyed as well. In fact she had little cameras implanted all over the outside and inside of his home.

She was Kell's contingency plan and she knew that if her teacher could see her now he would be so proud of her. He would have called her cunning and exemplary. The finest of his chosen ordained few. She felt all warm and fuzzy at that thought, but then colder ones entered her head and put out the tingly good feelings, Kell would never compliment her again, Kell was dead and it was Duncan's fault.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Methos smiled sweetly up at his mate from the driver's seat he was getting ready to pull out of the driveway and go to work. Duncan stood leaning against the car door, face now a little less care worn and sporting a sleepy but sated smile and twinkling eyes, and only inches away from Methos' own face, lips within easy kissing distance. Methos knew things were getting better now that a break through had at long last occurred. Perhaps it was that spring was once again at work and in the air, love blossoming everywhere. Or maybe it was just that the Highlander was at last beginning to heal. Methos hoped it was the latter. Last night certainly gave him hopes for it to be true.

xxxxxxxxxxx FlashBack xxxxxxxxxxxxx

The dreams had been bad as usual only this time Mac seemed more over come by them than ever before. Duncan was thrashing and whimpering, of course Mac also managed to hit him in the nose again. Methos woke him and demanded to know what the dream was about this time.

Stunningly Mac actually opened his mouth and answered him. "It's Connor and Kell." Then his voice quieted into a very low whisper which Methos could barely make out.

"I dreamed this time I was losing, that Connor's sacrifice was in vain."

Methos eyes closed in a pained flinch. In other words Duncan felt unworthy. How did Duncan manage to lose so much self-confidence in such a short time? Perhaps it was not this one incident that caused this breach but rather the many that were gathered over the short span of years since Tessa's death and Connor's last visit?

"Oh Duncan." He murmured gathering the man up into another embrace. Duncan's ear was pressed against his heart. Methos could feel the warm wetness of more of Mac's shed tears.

"I dreamed I was taken by Kell and that I was hurting yew." Duncan gasped through his running nose and tear clogged throat.

"Oh honey, nothing like that has happened it was just a dream, a miasma of things that could have happened but didn't, brought on by a worried mind. Duncan you are awake and you won. It was just a dream."

"Only some of it Methos, only some of it. I fought him. I felt the tip of his sword touch my throat and then Connor was with me, was there protecting me, and it was us, together, Connor and I who killed and beheaded and won Kell's quickening and hard earned safety. Connor's inside of me and I can't let him go. Why did he have to make me choose this? Methos I can't stand it. I can't stand that he's… that he's….that I."

Methos found he could not let Duncan continue to speak, of it. This was such a painful subject for Duncan. It was causing him so much pain and misery. He could feel it through their bond how much this new admittance was killing Duncan. He also knew it was a positive sign that Duncan was recovering from his loss, that he was now willing to speak of it. As well as actually admitting to having something to do with Connor's death. So he silenced Duncan with a passionate kiss. Drowning his lover with the feeling of hot wetness and delicious tongue action. Taking Duncan's tongue deep into his own mouth sucking on it as hungrily and desperately as he was able. Keeping Duncan's mind on him rather than on his dreams and pain.

"Oh Duncan, oh my Duncan." He moaned in his throat as he continued to kiss Duncan senseless. Duncan was arching up against him, their legs tangling as Methos rolled them a couple times wrestling Mac for top position, meeting each thrust of Duncan's with thrusts of his own. Hips wildly bucking as sensation rocked through them both. He needed Mac so desperately, his hands moved feverishly over silk clothed skin, ripping Duncan's boxers off then forcing Duncan's legs as wide apart as possible, freeing his slick heated flesh, rubbing its tip against the sweetest hole he'd ever fucked in his long life. Methos fingers jerked roughly, gathering as much heated wetness as possible to coat Duncan's opening with, then jammed his fingers relentlessly in, spreading and opening Duncan up wide. His cock aching to be sheathed inside it's hot tight depths. Needing painfully to bury his cock deep inside of his mate to take Duncan and possess him and claim him as HIS. Nail his ass so hard and fast and leave no doubt in either of their minds as to whom Duncan belonged to.

"MINE!" he growled at long last allowed entrance into the one place he had desired to be buried in for months.

Duncan whimpered and gasped, "Yes, no no no, yes dammit yes, oh god, do it Methos do it. Fuck me, yes yes yes! YES! Oh so good so good. I've missed this. I've missed yew. So good so good." He chanted. Both of them out of control. Orgasm gathering all too quickly and climax was at last reached. Duncan was dazed nothing had ever felt so good, nothing. Even the pain of half dry penetration had felt exquisite. "Methos." He panted, covering his lover's jaw with kisses, "Oh Methos. Oh god how I've missed this. Missed the feeling of yew inside of ma, skin to ma skin. So good so good."

Methos chuckled as Mac babbled on. Methos' hand traveled lazy circles over Mac's chest and belly scraping away the cum with his fingers rubbing the cum upward to cover tight pecks, cupping them and soon mouthing and chewing them, sucking them to keep them in their tight little peeks. Duncan shuddered gustily under him as sensual arousal slowly moved through him all over again.

"Lovemaking time isn't done yet." He murmured heatedly, thrusting his hardening cock pointedly in Duncan's very wet and very eager and very hot channel. This time Methos tortured Mac with their lovemaking, leading the pace as slow as possible despite Duncan's very vocal urgings for "More" and "Harder" and "Faster" and "You Son of a Bitch" "Bastard" "Harder!" But Methos ignored him and did what he wanted. Devouring Duncan kiss by hungry kiss, hot caress after hot caress, touching, tickling, gliding fingers and hungry mouths locking on one another like a drowning man to an oxygen tank. Duncan growled and returned Methos thrusts with his own impatient ones.

"Who do you love Duncan?" demanded Methos eyes glittering with a feral kind of madness in them.

"Yew Methos." Duncan gasped as another pointed thrust took his breath away.

"Who do you want Highlander?"

"Yew Methos."

"What do you need?" Methos asked biting Duncan sharply on the collarbone.

"Yew!" yipped Duncan, startled by the bite. "Methos."

"Who do you like getting fucked by the best?"

"Yew Methos! Yew! Yew! Yew!" screamed Duncan as at long last Methos gave into his earlier demands and rammed him hard, driving his cock home, fucking him passionately. Hips and cock moving so fast and hard that Duncan's breath was stolen from him with the full force of sensation of each thrust. Again he climaxed and so did Methos. Panting for breath they fell asleep like that. Methos still buried deep inside of Duncan. Methos body lay on top of Duncan, draping across him like an extra blanket or protective vest.

"I love yew Methos." Duncan murmured as dreamless exhausted sleep claimed him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx End of Flash Back xxxxxxxxxxx

"I'll see you later tonight." Said Methos getting ready to back out, his SUV in its correct gear. Duncan's smile turned into a fully besotted grin. Each one remembered last night very well indeed. Duncan had felt freed from all of his shame, all of his guilt, and all of his pain. He had actually had tears of joy in his eyes this morning remembering how wonderful it all had been, dazed and thoroughly ravished. Methos had been equally disheveled and rakish looking and thoroughly blitzed out. The familiar guilt and shame did not at first come back, slowly it was beginning to emerge but Mac was fighting against it as hard as he could. He wanted this wonderful feeling to last. He needed this wonderful sensation of freedom to last. He felt weightless and so good. He hadn't felt this good in so long. And he liked seeing Methos smiling again, not that sweet sad sympathetic smile but a true grin, the sparkly eyes and white teeth smile. The smile that crowed "Look at me! I'm happy! I'm in love and I am Happy!" that kind of grin next to the teasing sly grin that Duncan loved so much.

That morning Methos had grinned happily, no shadows of worry at all in his hazel eyes for the first time in over two months. And Mac felt like he had at last done something right.

"Damn Mac! That was definitely worth waiting for." He exclaimed, then they had exchanged kisses made love once more then Methos had to get ready for work.

And now here they were. They just couldn't get enough of each other. With a wink and a lip lock kiss, Duncan then let go of his beloved and waved him farewell. Than with a last saucy look at Methos. He then shouted. "Be home on time for Dinner, I have something special planned."

Methos actually blushed. "I will Mac, count on it."

The cameras taped it all from their hiding places in the garden and in the post where the mailbox stood.

In the house the phone rang. Duncan smiling ran to pick it up wondering if it was perhaps Methos on his cell phone making one last soppy declaration. As he put the phone to his ear a stranger's voice filled his ear with venom. His joy from earlier faded swiftly. Fear chilled his heart and he shivered as the cold seeped back into his bones. "Traitor." Click. They hung up, Duncan stood still eyes dulled and seeing nothing but his betrayal of Connor as well as of Methos.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Office hours were finished and Kate was alone in her quiet building. She waited for her henchmen to arrive with the updated reports and videos. Carter arrived, a handsome man of Norwegian decent. Pale blonde and pale blues eyes. He quickly loped to her desk. He was like a wolf with grace and careful walk, making sure to make as little noise as possible. Kate admired him, unfortunately her heart was pinned on her duty and on one man already. She would make Duncan pay. Before if she had never met Kell and found out that her husband was still alive she would have actively pursued someone like Carter.

Unwittingly, she had re-married and had actually found a different kind of true love. It had not been the kind of passion, which Duncan had shown her but it had been a good kind of love a lasting kind. She had married an older man, who had provided for her and loved her in a reserved kind of way. She had lacked for nothing. It had been a woman's duty back in those days to find a man get married and be looked after and taken care of by the man they were wed to, because women could not own property or take care of their own finances. Then Kell had found her, gave her penance for her sins and taught her about Immortality, as well as taking up where her second husband left off when he had died. Kell had taken care of her, taught her all that she needed to know and loved her as a sister.

After Carter gave her the newest report, she told him to leave. She knew most of what was in it, but she knew herself, well enough, that this was going to be unpleasant...mostly on those who had angered her. The video showed a new development her chest rose and fell as her heart beat increased with her rising rage.

The report began in time honored fashion..."The subject appears..." The subject appears? The subject appears? The subject is OBVIOUSLY fornicating with another man. The subject is OBVIOUSLY fornicating with another man in public, in private, and it appears in cars...Public space or private space...who cares? Had they no decency? Obviously not!

Kate looked over the report, at her own face in the mirror. She was as beautiful as the day "the subject" killed her. She had not aged a day and her features were of a classic styled beauty. She had always had a lush figure. Duncan had told her that...the Subject had told her that she was pretty, that his love for her would never die. No matter what, her looks never went out of style, just like his...the subject's. But was beauty really so superficial? Was their love that superficial? Looks? No, there had always been so much more. They had connected on a deeply personal and spiritual level. They were soul mates. They had been the most beautiful couple ever married and now, none of it mattered, none of it at all.

"Let's look at the OBJECT of the SUBJECT's lust." She muttered darkly.

The first picture was of The Subject looking at The Object with a smile on his face. The Subject was holding The Object at both elbows, smiling, leaning his face in to whisper some sweet lie. She knew The Subject. It was all LIES...love, honor and cherish...all LIES.

And he did it again and again.

He'd gotten away with it for years. Always somebody who "mattered" to him, somebody "important."

Kell had followed Duncan Macleod for years, getting more and more information on Connor MacLeod's beloved cousin. Beloved? Wonder if that was true too? she thought nastily.

She began to pace as she read the story of The Subject and The Object. Where they lived, where they shopped, what they ate, what movies they saw. Oh, goodie, The Object had a job as a translator. The Object was gainfully employed. The Subject however seemed to live off his never-ending financial resources.

The Object had rented some nice digs in a nice neighborhood of London and let The Subject move in with him.

They were so sweet and so nice to the neighbors that nobody was scandalized. They lived a quiet life...fornicating in public and private and probably in the drive way if they could not make it to one of their four cars.

How sweet. How nice. She scowled sarcastically. Scornful. So, The Subject now appeared to be enamored of a MALE Object. She stopped reading. She knew herself. She was going to be unpleasant...and somebody else was going to pay. She took out her cell phone.

"Carter, find out some more on this Pierson person. I want his schedule, his routine, his background checked. I want everything you can get on this man. From his office phone number to his office address to when and where he goes on lunch break. You got me? He's the key, I want to know all there is to know on this man, capische?"

Kell would be so proud, I know how to break Duncan, how to make him suffer now. The great Duncan Macleod of the Clan Macleod is a sodomite. The subject likes men! Back in the old days his type would have been burned at the stake for their affront to God and all decent folk! The subject can't be… what's that modern term they have for those types? Gay, was it? Bisexual? No, he can't. It would mean he never loved me. Not that I care if he ever loved me, after all he's a liar and I don't care, he's the enemy and I'm going to destroy him as Kell asked me to. 

"I'll see what I can do Madame. Consider this distasteful affair almost finished."

"Very good Carter."

As the sun set and the phone stayed in it's cradle she watched the video for the third time. She felt a strange kind of sadness come over her. She held a sketch of their wedding day in her hand, Duncan looked happy and proud in it, but he didn't look like this. She froze the frame and felt tears well up in her eyes, Duncan looked in love and at peace, and this Pierson fellow looked like he was the absolute center of Duncan Macleod's world. She Hated Him. She hated them both.

And then something else happened, as she let the video play on, Duncan called Adam by another name. "Methos." It was a sigh, a benediction, a prayer as they parted.

Methos? Why does that name sound familiar? Adam Pierson must be an Immortal, why else have a second name, An alias? 

She pulled out her cell phone and called her henchman again. "Carter, as you look for the information I requested on Adam Pierson, also snoop around for some information on a man named Methos. Look under Myths, I think. It sounds like a mythical name to me. I want information on anything Methos related."

"Yes Madame it will be as you command."

Carter would come through for her he always had in the past and now he will again, this time vengeance will be satisfied. Carter will help her see to it, and maybe once Duncan was dead, if she survived the gathering just maybe she could at long last go forward with her life, rather than hold her breath and sit and wait for the past to fix its self.

She relived her phone call to the Pierson-Macleod house from earlier that morning shortly after the subject's object his paramour had left the house, she smiled warmly, a purr escaped her throat it had been wonderful to hear Mac's voice on the phone, his total incomprehension the sound of his choked breath and gasp of pain as her cruelty hit the mark over and over again. Mac's voice had gone shrill in the end as he demanded to know who it was that was phoning him with such hatefulness. Two more phone calls, each one different but yet still harping on the same theme of betrayal. She called later that evening just breathing on the line. He hung up, she phoned him again and just breathed on the line. Mac started freaking out. The next time she called him she received the automated operator's voice telling her the phone was disconnected. Her smile widened and her heart warmed with this small victory.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Highlander: Hearts War  
Author(s): Jazzy and Eva (© 2001)  
Pairing: DM/M  
Rating: MATURE  
Characters: Joe, DM, M, Connor-n-spirit, Kate The DeValincourts and many others immortal and none. NOTE: I will re-write this story in the future and Story is Unfinished W-I-P at present.

Summary: Takes place after the Highlander Film: END GAME Macleod is going insane or thinks he is. He has a wonderful partner in Methos and they have finally settled in to their new home and new routines. Macleod has become basically a depressed home body.

Warnings: DARK FIC, H/C, Established Relationship, Post- HL series & HL #4: EndGame. Angst, serious matters, possible emotional, physical, and psychological torture, and issues of depression.

**CHAPTER FIVE continued**

The phone rang as the evening crowd began to trickle in to the bar for drinks and good food, blues and jazz music was Joe's signature. There were three Joe's Places now, Le Blues Bar in Paris and Joe's in Seacover Washington and now there was one in London. Mike had moved with Joe to each and every one of those pubs. Mike was Joe's second in command as well as a trusted friend. He was stepping in for Joe while Joe was out in Oahu, soaking up the sun and getting his much needed, and much deserved R and R.

Mike could picture Joe sitting around in a lounge chair guzzling down umbrella decorated drinks in coconut shells, tequila sunrises and hip ice teas. Asleep without a care in the world all stress at last gone from his tired proud old shoulders. The man was a grizzly bear with a heart of musch. So when the phone rang Mike thought it might be Joe calling to do a check up or just to chat. However, the caller was not Joe but another watcher, a professional field man named Grigory.

"We got trouble Mike. I was parked in a secured area resting peacefully, bored out of my skull. Damn! when I was told I was going to be trailing Duncan Macleod of the Clan Macleod for a few weeks; maybe even for a month or two, I thought this was a totally cool assignment. Ya know, fireworks every week, excitement, intrigue or hijinx, but no, what I got was a recluse. He never leaves the house, except when he says goodbye to Pierson in the mornings. He doesn't go jogging or even do the gardening. He doesn't do anything at all. Which is very worrisome. Anyway, I digress, well I've been noticing something strange going on. I've noticed for the last month or so that we're not the only ones tailing Mac and Pierson. Today the snoop got a little clumsy I was able to make a positive check on this guy."

"It's serious Mike. This guy is x-government HRM Spy. Top of his class in the British, Special Forces Academy, has awards up the wazoo. All of them for exceptional skills and going above and beyond duty, serving his country loyally for over forty years. The man's old but dangerous, man, seriously dangerous. Pierson didn't even notice him and you know how hard Pierson is to trail. Not to mention this spy, Sir Guy Gavriel Adencourt, that's his name by the way, this Sir Guy, he's managed to eye us as well. He's asking questions, and he's even trailed Sonjia a few times, scaring the living bejeesus out of her and you know how cool and collected Sonjia usually is. She's a nervous wreck now. This guy's gotten under her skin, he's an absolute spook of the worst sort. We're in trouble Mike. Mac and Pierson are in some serious trouble. You need to get Joe back here right away. We need him to talk to Mac and the rest and see to it that this is all taken care of. We need the boss back man, right away."

"Get a grip on yourself Grigory. This is Joe's first vacation in over 22 years, I can't just call him because you're panicking. I know things look bad right now but Grigory is this Mortal trouble or Immortal trouble? You know the rules. We can't get involved."

"Joe is beyond the rules." hissed Grigory. "He said that if trouble comes along we should call him. Well trouble has come and it's a whopper! I'm not panicking Mike, this isn't something we can take lightly. Sir Guy knows that we exist, he spotted me. He spotted Sonjia. He spotted Jimmy and Alexander and even our top guy, Nathan Pierce! Sir Guy's sticking his nose in our business, mortal as well as Immortal. We're not killers Mike, and we're not soldiers in some cause for justice. We're field observers, not back up! Get Joe. We need Joe. He'll take care of this. He's x-army as well as our superior officer, Joe always knows what to do in a situation like this."

"All right, All right, Grigory calm down now. I'll call him, I promise. This does sound pretty serious. But I really don't want to have to disturb Joe for any reason unless it's dire."

"Oh trust me Mike, this is." Said Grigory his hazel eyes gazing bleakly on the dead body of Nathan Pierce and the mess that was left of Nathan's apartment. "And Mike, I need a clean up crew. When I said Sir Guy found Nathan, I mean he killed him, and it's not pretty."

Mike gulped, "Oh," he said softly. "This changes things. This is code red Grigory. Keep away from the Macleod-Pierson household until this thing blows over."

"You got it Mike. But I'm going to stay here until clean up arrives, then I'll go on to my next assignment. You gotta call Joe, okay?"

"Okay, talk to you later Grigory."

"The same cao."

Three days later. Oahu...

Joe was swinging in his hammock, gently swaying from being pushed by the force of the warm breezes. Joe was dressed in a tacky Hawaiian blaring color shirt. Lais wound around his neck along with a strand of shells. He was sipping an iced tea from a green straw. Black shades over his eyes. Suddenly his cell phone began to wring. Joe was not pleased by this disruption to his peace.

His whiskey warm voice drawled into the phone. "Yeah?"

"Joe, hi buddy."

"Mike? What's up?"

"Oh god Joe, this is killing me. I didn't want your vacation to be disturbed but, there's a problem that's come up, man. You did say we should contact you in case of trouble. Well, trouble has arrived in the form of Kell's student, and devoted follower, Kate. She put a professional onto us as well as onto Mac and Adam. Trouble is brewing and it's a tornado-sized problem, Joe. Already one of our own operatives is down. I don't know what her plans are, but I've got this bad feeling about it. We need you Joe, and I think Mac and Adam do to."

Joe stiffened in his hammock and almost fell out of it. "Awh, Jesus, I knew Connor Macleod's death was hitting Mac hard but now this. Jesus, this isn't good. Have you put the rest of the watchers on alert?"

"Oh yes, Joe, I did it as soon as I found out about Nathan Pierce's death. Everyone is on red alert until further notice. You need to hop onto the next plane you can and get here to London as soon as you can. Things are not good and they're about to get worse."

"All right Mike, what exactly do you think I can do about this? Do we have any data from which we can strategize?"

"Our efforts to get one of our own operatives in with her group has failed. What little information we have is from her Watcher, Lori Anderson, and that was before Anderson was killed. I don't know how to log this Joe, as either an Immortal affair or as a Watcher one."

"It's both Mike. She had us investigated. She's instigated this now we have got to finish it, and hopefully without making this another disaster like the Horton Affair. I'll call the airport and see what they can do for me, I can't promise anything, flights night already be booked, I think the earliest I can leave is some time with in the next day or two."

"That's alright Boss just get here when you can."

"Meanwhile keep Mac and Adam under surveillance."

"We've tried but our operatives keep getting killed. Kate wants what's going to happen to them to stay quiet. At least, that's the feeling I get from this whole situation. She wants a private vendetta without prying eyes."

"All right Mike, just do what you can. I'll give you call when I'm on the plane, alright?"

"Sure, Boss."

"Talk to you later Mike."

**London, three days previous... **University, Research Department.

Methos' good humor was noticed by all. They were glad to see that his foul mood had passed, which probably meant things were once again going well for him on the home front, with Duncan. Duncan and Methos had an open relationship, not everyone approved of course but they weren't hassled a lot either. They were very lucky to find an open-minded environment. Academia had its pit falls but it was also in some ways a little more open minded then other places. After all, wasn't school the place for enlightenment and education?

A dog whistle got his attention as a strapping brunette, curvy in all the right places, and only five feet tall, came strolling up to him. She was both his friend and his assistant, Marion Iverson. She smiled eyes all a twinkle, then she mock growled at him.

"Someone got laid last night. Looking at you I would almost venture that things are on the mend between you two. How's Mac?"

Methos laughed. "Things are definitely looking up, Mare." smiling wider he said, "I won't tell you any of the sordid details, but yes, we're healing. There are still moments though," He paused and sighed as sadness again claimed his features and shadows entered his eyes making them very dark.

Marion's expression turned sympathetic, her smile faded to be replaced by a soft frown. "How bad is it, really, Adam?"

"When things are bad between us, we don't talk at all or even touch. His cousin's death has hit him very hard, Mare. And there's something else that he's not telling me, something he's hiding from me. I won't force him to tell me just yet what it is. Mac needs my understanding and help as well as my patience, he'll tell me when he's ready to and not a moment before. Other than all that, we're fine. He's fine."

Her eyebrows rose at that. She didn't have to say a thing. Methos read her loud and clear, "Are yow really? You're in denial and you know it."

"Listen Mare, I appreciate your concern, but Mac and I, we're fine and we're for life. We're solid and strong and we'll survive this. Duncan's in a dark place right now but he's doing better. Why he's been absolutely charming all week and smiling and cracking jokes like he used to. We even talked, big time, last night. The walls are coming down. He let me _love_ him last night."

With his extra emphasis on love, it left no doubt as to what he meant, which was that he and Mac had made love. They had been intimate, had connected again last night.

"He was even more cuddly this morning. Not since his trip to New York, not since Connor Macleod's death, three months- no six months ago have we been this intimate, this good. Then last night it was as if time stopped for us, and it rewound back to before, before any of the bad things had happened. It was as wonderful as ever. He's going to get through this, we both are. I am going to be there for him, for every day of this ordeal, and every day after it."

" Mac really lucked out when he married you, Adam. This sounds though like you guys might need some extra help. I know a good therapist. He helped me when my mom died. I had so many unresolved issues. None of which I am going to go into any details over right now, but grief like what I went through and what I think Mac is going through, it can destroy even the most solid of bonds."

"Erika and I were together for over five years, then Mom died and I pushed my lover away. I almost lost her to my grief. Mom never approved of my lifestyle, nor of Erika, but Erika fought for me, fought for our relationship. She introduced me to Dr. Ambrose. He saved me. He saved the only relationship that has ever meant anything to me. I almost lost the only woman that I ever truly loved or ever will love, and because of Ambrose, we're together and going strong now for, I think, if my memory serves, according to our last anniversary, we've been together now over twelve years. Yes, twelve years, I believe. You and Mac should really see Dr. Ambrose. Mac might need more help than you can or be able to give."

"I'm well aware that we might need some help, but call it a man thing, or a pride thing, or a Scottish thing, or a whatever thing, you want to call it. But I know Mac, and I know that he wont go see or consider the possibility of seeing, a shrink."

Besides that, we're immortal. I seriously doubt the Doc will be able to deal with that particular issue let alone Mac's 400 years worth of issues. Abandonment issues, sexual identity issues, family issues, etc. 

Marion nodded her head, "I understand Adam." she said sympathetic, then an impish grin crossed her features, "Which is why I'm with Erika. But seriously, Adam, take his card, in case later on you guys change your minds. I just want to help. Dr. Ambrose did wanders for me and I really think he can help you guys as well."

"Thank you Marion, as always your concern is heartening to me."

"Charmer." she said then they separated and each went to their desks and went to work on their newest project. As usual though Methos brain was focussed on Duncan. His work was set to the side unconsciously. Methos was analyzing Duncan, as Duncan was before New York and as Duncan was now after the fact. The two were extremely different individuals. Then his mind continued to dissect Duncan during their estrangement before it and after it as well. Duncan's warmth gave way to coolness, distance, and viscous arguments. Duncan as he was now, was very different Duncan from what he was before. Mac was sad, all the time sad and crying, lost in his own hell and unreachable.

And keeping secrets.

Duncan was as usual internalizing things and therefore making recovery extremely difficult. In fact it was self-destructive behavior and no matter how hard Methos tried He couldn't get Mac to talk, to open up, but Mac wouldn't cooperate.

Last night a positive thing other than the love making which was wonderful in and of its self, happened. Duncan had spoken of his nightmares therefore giving Methos further insight into the subconscious of one Duncan Macleod. It would help in Duncan's recovery in the long run. Grief and madness was not a stranger to Methos. In fact, a great deal of his life had been spent in madness driven by grief and rage. It would pass in time for Duncan as it had for him, all those centuries ago and as he's told Marion. Methos would be there every step of the way. His love for Duncan would see them through, as Duncan's love for Methos would fight to keep them together as well.

These thoughts then led into reliving last night's erotic delights and this morning's as well. He couldn't help but wonder and muse over what Duncan would have in store for him tonight when he was finished with work. Perhaps a romantic dinner, maybe even more love making. His imagination took wing. Work was made ten times more difficult with visions of a naked highlander in his mind taking him passionately, taking the dominant part in his dreams, taking him fast and slow and hard and gentle. Duncan on top of him, Duncan's weight pinning him to the buttery leather of the couch, opening all of Methos senses, all of his feelings, bringing him to the brink, into a kind of rapture never before experienced in all of his 5k years of life.

Marion's pointed clearing of her throat brought Methos out of his reverie and with a small blush he plunged right back into his work.

Though his mind sent up a hopeful prayer that Duncan would be open to the idea of topping. And if not, well, it wasn't as if Methos didn't enjoy the delight as of topping Duncan, there was no one quite like Duncan when it came to love making. Like his cooking skills Duncan was a scrumptious sensual feast, an experience of the highest.

At last it was time to leave. Work was through for the day and now Methos was free to leave and go home to his waiting lover.

**  
Los Angeles, California, North America**

Johnny held his newborn daughter in his arms. Heart full to bursting with his love for her and his wife. They were his life. In the middle of all that love, worry niggled at his mind and heart. Worry for his beloved Uncle. His mind kept returning to that last phone call he had shared with Duncan. Now that he replayed that conversation in his head for the hundredth thousandth time, Johnny had a bad feeling from it, the way Duncan had sounded... so defeated, so sad and miserable. Johnny knew very well how much Duncan had relied on Connor. He remembered holidays, letters, phone calls between the two men. Johnny had grieved and still was grieving for his now dead father. Losing Connor was not good not for Johnny and definitely not for Duncan. Duncan had been very dependent on Connor, frighteningly dependent.

Johnny turned to his wife a question in his eyes and on his lips. "Tara, what do you think about a trip to London to visit my Uncle Duncan?"

"I don't know if that would be a good idea sweet heart, she's barely four months old. I don't think she's quite old enough for travel."

"Oh come on honey, please. I've got this bad feeling, I'm very worried about Uncle Duncan. I seriously doubt a trip to London would hurt the babe or yourself. You're fully healed now and we both have maternity leave, as well as unused vacation time we can use to extend our leave. I really do think my uncle needs me, and Michaela's bound to make him happy and proud. I couldn't be there for him, but now, there's no reason why we can't be there this time for him."

Tara looked at her husband with concern and understanding. She knew how painful this whole ordeal had been for her husband and how much it was eating him up inside. She also had faith in Johnny's instincts. If he thought his uncle was in need then his uncle probably was.

"Call him Johnny, ask him if he wants to see us, and let him know it's going to be a few days before we can leave because we have to put a few things in order and get checked for Micheala's visa, etc.."

Jonathan Macleod smiled brilliantly, "What would I do without you Love?"

"I have no idea, now hand over Micheala and go call your Uncle."

"Yes Ma'am! Have I ever told you how much I love it when you get bossy?"

In London Duncan Macleod was working in the kitchen humming along with a song on the radio when the phone rang. He picked it up on the first ring.

"Macleod-Pierson."

"Uncle Duncan?" Johnny asked a little puzzled, wondering what the deal was with the Macleod-Pierson thing, but he did not voice his question. "It's me, Johnny."

Suddenly Duncan's face lit up with a bright almost painful smile. His voice grew warm and personable.

"Johnny! Oh my gosh! How are yew? How's the baern? How's yewr wife?"

"Everyone's good Uncle Duncan, Tara gave birth to a wonderful healthy little girl. I just called to see how you were doing. How is everything there in London? Are you teaching still?"

"Uh, well, not exactly. I uh, I haven't found anything to suit ma yet. I'm basically just living at home, taking it easy for a while."

"Oh," said Johnny, "well that's understandable. I mean, well, how are you holding up Uncle?"

"I'm doing as well as I can under the circumstances. I'm taking it one day at a time Johnny. Just, one day at a time. Adam's been taking very good care of me."

Johnny's ears perked up at that. "A friend? I'm so glad that you have someone looking out for you Uncle. Would it be terribly imposing if I asked you, would you mind if I and the family were to visit you for a time in London?"

Duncan smiled at that and felt his heart soar. "Noh, no trouble at all. Come, come, I would love it if yew came over for a visit. I'm sure Adam would enjoy yewr company as well. Things have been a little intense between us lately. Family, as yew well know, is always welcome. How long do yew intend to stay for?"

"For as long as you will have us Uncle."

"That's wonderful to hear! I'll make sure to let Adam know. When will yew be arriving?"

"A week give or take a few days for arrangements," as he was speaking Johnny couldn't help but wonder what Adam had to do with anything or for that matter had a say in whether or not Johnny and his wife and daughter could visit or not. "And flight schedules and all that stuff."

"And the baern? Are yew sure that she is old enough for travel?"

"We're going to check on that as well uncle, we'll call you with more details later. Are you sure Uncle that we won't be putting you out or anything?"

"Definitely noht! Don't be ridiculous! Our house is very large, why we have six guest rooms! Yew will be noh trouble at all. We'll love having yew over."

"All right well, I guess I'll let you go back to what you were doing before I called."

"All right, well, call me soon. Okay? Give Tara and yewr baern all my love."

"I will Uncle, I love you, talk to you soon, bye."

"I love yew as well Johnny, bye."

As they both hung up Johnny's brow furrowed, he wasn't sure that he liked the sound of this, "Adam and Me" "Our House" and etc. stuff. Who was this Adam, and what intentions did he have in regards to Duncan? Uncle Duncan was living with a man. What was this suppose to mean? It's not as if Duncan couldn't afford to buy a house on his own and continue with payments on it on his own. Duncan had a good two or three hundred years worth of business ingenuity and luck on his side, which of course made Duncan a billionaire twice over. Money squirreled all over the world in bank accounts and etc.

What was Johnny suppose to think of all of this. Uncle Duncan had always been kind and easily taken advantage of, easily manipulated by the likes of Amanda and Fitz Cairn, two very disreputable immortals both schemers, both had at one time or another taken advantage of Duncan's vulnerable heart and generous and kind nature. Was Adam like these two? Johnny fervently hoped not.

But Duncan's friends were a mix of good and bad, so chances were rather high that Adam could be within that category. Duncan was in need of being taken care. Duncan didn't need another thief or schemer in his life, but Duncan had sounded lighter of heart, perhaps this friend was one of the good bunch. If so then why was Johnny feeling so worried about it?

"I'm just conjuring things up out of a sense of ignorance and fear. Maybe I'm drawing all the wrong conclusions? Goodness, I hope that's all it is. But my instincts are screaming alert at me."

From the living room his wife's voice came to him asking his help with the computer, it was acting up again.

"Coming Hon." He then put his questions behind him to be mulled over for later.

**London, Macleod-Pierson Residence  
The Kitchen.**

Duncan was exhilarated by his conversation with Johnny. He was so happy. Johnny would be coming to visit soon. Things were beginning to look up for everyone. Unfortunately as the hours passed on Duncan's joy trickled away, replaced by dark brooding feelings of guilt. He was in the midst of making Methos a romantic dinner, as the older immortal had imagined earlier that afternoon.

As his knife cut across the thick vine of the tomato stem. The sound of the blade slicing eerily echoed in his head and was replaced with another similar sound like that of his Katana blade swinging through the air. Duncan's eyes were caught by the freed tomato's progress, as it rolled over the counter's edge he was caught up in remembering; instead of the red tomato, Duncan saw brown hair, a cut head rolling on cold steele as the body collapsed and flopped on the rooftop. Blood splattering everywhere and quickening energy raged forth. Duncan whimpered in remembered pain then sudden emotional anguish swept over him along with the quickening fire.

Duncan's knife fell from nerveless fingers as he broke out into a cold sweat. The scene played out and all he could feel once gain was the cold, the chill of loss, regret and grief. The anguish too much to bare. The consequences of what he had, what Connor had made him do, were now at work on his psyche and heart. No! He denied. No I couldna done it! I, no Connor didn't do this to ma. He would noht! He wouldnah! His pain and horror doubling. He ran from the kitchen heading directly for the bathroom, where he doubled over puking up his breakfast and wretched for hours afterward. Duncan couldn't stop the heaves or choking to death as the air was cut off from his starving body. His throat closed up refusing him air. When he at last came to a couple of hours later, Connor stood over him. Connor's ethereal body was transparent and shimmering with barely visible blue light. Quickening energy.

//That's it lad, wake up, come back. Wake now. Methos will be arriving shortly. Let him love yew Duncan. This shall pass in time. Yew need to let out that anger. Yew need to come to terms with what has happened. Anger is a part of grief Lad. Donnechaide, yew have a right to be angry with ma. I gave yew noh choice. I loved yew and I hoped yew would choose to live, which yew did, which I am happy for. But yew need to live now, yew need to let ma go. I love yew Donnechaide but I am noh the only one who does. Yew have so many reasons to live for, the DeValincourts, Amanda, Anne and little Mary, ma son Johnny, his wife Tara and their wee lassie Michaela, and most importantly of all, yew have Methos. He needs yew. He loves yew. He lives only for yew. I am spirit now and though a very big part of ma wishes to stay with yew, I cannah. I must move on soon. I can only stay until yewr need of ma is no longer. I am so tired Duncan. I miss ma loves and miss ma good friends and kinsmen who have gone before ma. Please Donnechaide, yew must let ma go.// Pleaded Connor Macleod.

"I cannah. I cannah." whispered Duncan hoarsely as he rocked back and forth on the cold turquoise tile. The cold seeping into his blood and chilling him all the way to the marrow of his bones. "I canna. I cannah. I cannah face what I 'ave done. Do noht leave ma Connobhar. I need yew. How can I live with whot I 'ave done? How do I live without yew in ma life?"

//Yew have Methos. He will look after yew. He loves yew. Does yewr new vows mean so little to yew? Are they so easily forgotten? He's yewr lover. Let him love yew. Let him take yew into his arms and carry yewr burdens along side of yew. Let him ease yewr pain. Let him help yew. He wants to be yewr shield. Let him be shield and sword in yewr defense. Let Methos be yewr help meet and equal partner in all things, in all walks of life. He wants to be at yewr side forever. He loves yew. Let him love yew. yew are deserving of his love.//

Before Duncan could speak, Connor faded away and Methos' voice filled the house. His presence, his quickening seemed to warm Duncan a little. The chill in his soul began to thaw, though he shivered still with the cold.

"Duncan?"

"Duncan where are you?"

"Duncan I'm home. Duncan?"

With each calling Methos voice got louder. His footsteps got closer. Methos searched high and low calling out to his lover, concern deeply colored his voice. Finally he came across the bathroom where Duncan still sat huddled and rocking. Methos rushed inside, sliding on his knees to Duncan's side and embraced his lover in a strong hug.

"Duncan, love, what is it? What's happened? You look awful, and upset. Tell me what's happened here."

"J-just h-hold ma." croaked Duncan as the tears slid down his cheeks. "Just hold ma fer a little while, that is all. Just hold ma."

Methos eyes looked deeply into Duncan's, a great sadness swept over Methos and he knew it was Duncan's. The feeling of loss was so intense and so painful there were no words to which this pain could be described as.

"You are not alone Duncan. I'm here love. Whatever you need, whatever you want, I will do anything for you, give you anything you desire. I love you so much Duncan, so very much."

Methos' endearances only seemed to make it worse. Duncan sobbed all the harder and shook. Methos tried to soothe him with rubs and soft words spoken in his warmest, Welsh accent. It was a long while before Duncan was soothed enough, and ready enough to continue with his plans of romance and candle light dinner. Duncan seemed determined not to let whatever upset him earlier that afternoon spoil the rest of their evening together.

Methos was finishing his last sip of wine, tormenting Duncan with the slowness of it. Their eyes locked, Duncan's were smoldering, a mirror of Methos' own.

"I think." said Duncan, voice gone low and sexy. "That it's time for desert."

Methos licked his lips in anticipation. "Desert." Mused Methos. "As in two very naked immortals fucking each other's brains out, or do you mean something more along the line of whipped cream and fudge cake?"

Duncan smiled, "I was thinking more along the line of both."

"Well than, by all means, let's have both."

Fudge cake was shared between passionate and hungry kisses. Methos squirmed under Mac's sensual assault to his neck and lower regions, teasing the buttons loose from their holes.

"Ma-ac." whined Methos arching his hips towards his lover's succulent and all too fuckable mouth. "Fuck me all ready."

Duncan's eyebrows shot up at those words. "You want me to top?" he asked incredulous.

"Of course I do, I enjoy bottoming once in a while. This relationship of ours is equal Mac, equal in every way, from the love making to the decision making. You know I love topping you Lover, your arse is the most delectable piece of work I've ever fucked but right now I'm in the mood to be ridden, and I want to be ridden hard." The last was spoken in a sensual growl, which begged for action on Duncan's part. Duncan picked Methos up into his arms, sweeping him up the stairs and to their master bedroom. Methos' naked body writhed and begged to be touched, legs spreading in invitation on the satin sheets of their bed. Duncan teased hard nipples with his tongue, then with biting gentle nips across the perfectly shaped and muscled pecks. Sweat gleamed enchantingly across Methos' torso.

Duncan loved those rarely seen muscles, adored the strength in his slender lover's body. Methos whimpered as Duncan's teeth grazed lower along his abdomen. Duncan's tongue dipped into the belly button. Strong hands caressed muscled thighs and fondled the pert derriere. Duncan practically purred as he lapped at the leaking head of Methos' cock. Methos arched up trying to bury his sex in Duncan's mouth. He moaned and whined when Duncan wouldn't permit it. Teasing tongue doing dangerously erotic things to him.

"Please." Methos begged, "Please, please, please."

Methos gasped when Duncan's slick fingers breached his tight passage. Almost he forgot how to breathe as those fingers wiggled inside of him stretching him for further pleasures. Than Duncan's fingers found his sweet spot and Methos spasmed and screamed with the warm feelings of ecstasy curling in his stomach and lower regions. He was so close, so close, but he didn't want to come until Duncan was inside of him, not till Duncan was pounding him through the mattress. He wanted to be taken and he wanted it now.

"Now Duncan...Now" he sobbed, "Take me... take me!"

But Duncan wouldn't. Not yet, he wasn't done loving Methos yet. Making Methos beg for it, hearing his lover's cries were the most beautiful sounds in the world to him. Feeling Methos shiver and arching under him, quivering from Duncan's sensual assault was something Duncan wanted to draw out and make last forever. Duncan's mouth moved from one erogenous zone to the next, nipping and licking, grazing his teeth along hard male flesh and muscle. Methos gasped and sobbed out his pleas. Duncan thought he just might be able to come just from the sound of that beautiful, musical voice. Finally Duncan moved up his lover's body, hands spreading Methos' thighs wider making room for Duncan to crouch between those lovely legs. Then Duncan's mouth claimed Methos, sealing their lips together in a hungry passionate kiss. His tongue dove in and simulated what he was about to do to Methos and Methos quivered all the more his own tongue became demanding his legs tightened around Duncan's waist. Duncan's hands grabbed Methos legs bringing them up higher and positioning Methos for the final invasion. At long last Duncan thrust in to Methos with the one thing he'd been begging for all evening long.

"YES!" crowed Methos through the kiss. "Yes yes yes!" he cried out hissing it with every thrust of Duncan's gorgeous cock. First it was soft, conquering him gently then Duncan's hips sped up, his thrusts grew stronger more demanding and faster.

"Methos Methos Methos... Oh Methos. So beautiful, so hot... so sexy... You're so tight lover, so tight." Duncan gasped between kisses and thrust, then roaring, as orgasm threatened to take him over the edge. "OH GOD METHOS!"

Methos whimpered and met every pounding movement. His own words growing more loudly as Duncan's hand inserted itself between their bodies and took hold of his pulsating hardness, jerking him off in time to their rocking pounding rythymn. At last climax exploded forth for both of them. Harsh breathing and drumming hearts, Duncan collapsed on top of him their legs still entangled wet heat dribbling down between his thighs and down Duncan's hard muscled stomach.

"Oh god.. that was.. fantastic." said Methos between panting breaths.

"Yes, it was." said Duncan kissing Methos' cheek, his breathing was now under control and his heart's pounding was slowing to it's normal rythymn.

Both were close to sleep, Morpheus' blanket was settling around them. Then Duncan remembered he wanted to talk to Methos about his nephew's visit.

"Methos, yew awake?"

"Hmn?"

"Methos wake up I need to talk to yew."

Methos sighed, then carefully opened first one eye then the other. Duncan seemed to be blushing, shy furtive movements from hands to head made Methos all of sudden wary. Had he pushed Duncan too soon? Was Duncan going to tell him that he had at long last made his excruciating choice between Methos and his x-wife Kate? Or was Duncan about to spill the beans about the events in New York? Or. Lethargy and sleep was the farthest thing from his mind as these fears rushed through his mind.

"What is it Highlander?" he asked voice carefully neutral.

"Well, yew see Methos, ma nephew, Johnny, yew know about Johnny right?"

"Yes," said Methos voice prompting. "What about yewr nephew."

"Methos, Johnny called ma while yew were at work. He called to ask if he and his family could come to London to visit ma. And I said it twas all right but that I had to check with yew first. Would it bother yew if they came to visit for a while?"

"No, not at all Lover. They're your family, why would I mind? As long as it makes you happy, I don't mind. I think it's a fabulous idea but Duncan, are you certain that you are up to having company? How long do they plan on staying for? I don't want you to be pushing yourself. You're still in a... in a delicate state of mind. I don't know how else to state it, but emotionally you are very distraught still. I don't want to see you hurt again."

"Honestly Methos, I'm not as delicate as yew think I am. I haven't seen Johnny since his high school graduation ten years or so ago. I'm very excited by the prospect of their visit, especially to see the new baern. Methos, I can handle it. I want to. Please Methos I'm so happy don't say ma nay."

"I'm just worried about you Duncan. If it's what you want my heart then, all right. All right they can come for a visit. I just remembered something; does he even know about us? Not the "we" are living together part but the as Lovers part, does he know about this new change in your lifestyle? He might not approve. He might not want to bring his baby and his wife into such a scandalous environment."

"He's Connor's son, Methos. Johnny doesn't have a bigoted bone in his entire body."

"Still Mac, he might not be comfortable with this being up and personal and in his face."

"Then we'll try and be discrete and he will just have to learn to live with it. Besides that it would very rude of me to call him back up and say to him, 'No Johnny yew cannah come here fer a visit I don't know how yew will take Mine and Methos' relationship.' That just wouldn't due. It wouldn't be right especially after I said yes to him."

"All right Duncan, all right. Now how long do they plan on staying for?"

"As long as we will let them. They didn't give me an exact time table."

"Oh for god's sake, what is this a spur of the moment vacation?" Spluttered Methos, irritably. He was tired and this was getting more complicated by the minute.

"I think so." said Duncan calmly.

Methos let out an explosive breath. "Damn, all right but if he hurts you in any way, he's gone. I won't have you upset by rash words. Or putting yourself through hell to be the perfect host. I won't have you distressed or exhausted, you've just recently begun to let me touch you again and I don't want to lose that. Especially lose our love-making it would make me quite the cranky host if I did."

Duncan chuckled a little at that last remark though he knew Methos was being quite serious on the matter. "I know, ma heart."

"As you are mine Duncan. I love you and you are more precious to me than the power of words have to say. I don't want to see you wounded and hurt again."

Duncan's throat closed up as tears reached his eyes. "Oh Methos, I love yew so much too." He said hoarsely while sprinkling kisses all over Methos' eyes cheeks and jaw and throat. Methos moaned appreciatively.

"All right call him up in the morning and say its okay, j-just, oh yeah, don't stop doing that, oh god, Jesus, you're trying to kill me aren't you? Ooo Oh oo, yes, yes right there don't stop I like that." Then came a last strangled cry, "Oh GOD!"

A long time later, as the sun came in through the large airy window, Duncan looked down on his lover, a smile curving his mouth. He loved watching Methos sleep, the man was just too adorable for words to describe. As he sat staring his mood began to go down hill as guilt once more niggled at his conscience. He could hear Connor in his head urging him to speak it.

//Tell him Lad. Let him decide. He already said he loves yew more than anything else in the entire world. He won't let you go so easily as yew believe he will. Clear yewr conscience. Speak to him of yewr lapse. He will forgive yew, just speak it and it will all be at an end and yew will at last know what he will do. And I'm bett'n ee keeps yew.//

"And what if yew're wrong." he growled. Which then disturbed Methos sleep and brought him immediately to waking. He's speaking to Connor's ghost again. Methos realized, sadly and worriedly.

"Duncan, Love, what is it? Whose wrong, and about what?"

Duncan stilled, guilt flashing in his eyes. "Noh one, Methos." he lied. "I was speaking to noh one. I uh, I have something else we need to speak of."

Methos sat up then, fluffing his pillows and pounding them into a supportive cushion against the headboard of their bed.

"Go on." he said quietly neutrally, his heart hammering from anticipation. Agony uncle time. He realized.

"What would yew do if, say, for example; there's these two people and its a new relationship for one of them. He didn't mean to do anything wrong, he thought his wife was dead yew see, so it's not bigamy or anything. Only thing is the wife's not dead she's alive, and yew see this guy and his wife are still married, they weren't divorced in the usual sense of the word, but yew see he thought she was dead. He doesn't wear a ring, in fact he locked it away in a chest in some old storage place, and without rings they're noht married. Noht really, so the guy and his lover they can be together, but the thing is he hasn't told his lover that he was married before or that the woman even exists." Macleod rambled on, his lilting voice speeding rapidly in its story telling.

"This guy loves his lover so very much and he doesn't wish to lose him, but than the fool did a stupid thing and he knew it was stupid even as he was doing it. But he had loved her once, yew see, and he had managed to fool himself into believing that he still did. So in this foolish state of feelings he and his wife made love again unintentionally cheating on his current lover. But yew see the mon was quite confused and then he realized as he was making love to this woman, that it wasn't like before, that he couldn't do it. His heart was belonging to another and he realized that he didn't love her any more but his heart couldn't let her go either. So later he returns home and his lover is so wonderful to him, which only makes the guilt stab deeper. He wonders if he comes forth if he will lose his current and only true love. If this situation, I mean if this happened to yew what would yew do? What do yew think this lover should do to this guy, do yew think he should leave him?"

Duncan ended lamely unable to meet Methos eyes for fear of what he might see within their interchangeable depths.

"Duncan, are you trying to tell me something?" Methos asked hoping to draw out the truth from Duncan's own lips, to hear Duncan admit to his lapse of faithfulness. "Is there something you want to say to me? Maybe make this example a little more clearer maybe?" Methos asked eyes narrowing shrewdly.

"Ye-n-noh, I mean it was just a theoretical scenario that's all. I just wanted to know what yew would do if this happened to yew, that's all." He said lying quickly, eyes downcast, ears burning from shame.

Methos covered Duncan's jittery hands with his own and gave them a gentle squeeze.

"Duncan," he said softly, his other hand tilting Duncan's face up so their eyes would meet. Though Duncan steadfastly tried to look elsewhere than into Methos kindly face. "Look at me Love. Look at me Highlander." he said repeating it once more his eyes latching onto Duncan's tormented brown eyes, before continuing with what he had to say. "If you cannot speak of it yet I will wait."

Duncan felt a ripple of unease in his stomach and heart. Did Methos know? And how would he know? Watchers! Watchers were the only possible explanation for Methos knowing. Duncan licked his lips nervously unable to speak, he waited, holding his breath unconsciously, waiting for Methos to say the rest.

"I love you Duncan. You can tell me anything. I would accept anything, give you anything you asked of me."

"I-I need more time." stuttered Duncan, flushing with shame eyes once again downcast.

Though disappointed with Duncan's answer Methos stroked Duncan's bronzed cheek and whispered, vowing. "Then I will give you more time Highlander. I love you. I'd forgive you anything, but let me warn you Duncan my patience is not endless. I will give you the time you need, but you know as well as I, that the truth will set you free."

Again tears choked Duncan, he tried to hold them back but he couldn't. Methos' arms enveloped him in a loving, gentle, but loose hug and began to stroke his hair and back in soothing circular rubs.

"It's alright my darling. It's alright." whispered Methos, soothingly.

I don't deserve him. He'll leave ma. I would leave ma. 

//Oh Lad, he's noht yew. Listen to him. Listen to yewr heart. This is killing yew. The truth no matter how painful the consequences, will in the end set yew free and lighten the burdens yew hold in yewr heart.// Said Connor.

**Later **

Methos called Marion entrusting her with his broken heart, in Joe's absence. "He's pushing me away again." He said quietly into the phone. "I think he's having second thoughts about our relationship. I feel as if I'm living some kind of lie. But I don't know what lie I'm living. The lie where Duncan and I are solid, or whether or not Mac and I are even a We? Or am I living a lie where Mac, a heterosexual man for all of his life will even want me after he wakes up from this cozy little break down of his and end our life together."

"Oh Adam." she said sadly, sympathetically. "I'm so sorry. But don't let this panic you. It's obvious to anyone with eyes to see that Mac loves you. Remember last year at that teacher parent function? The way he hosted it and kept his arm around your waist, even when that one hostile asshole came unglued?"

This made Methos chuckle. "And Mac tried to rescue me but instead it was my sharp tongue that put the man in place and the way Mac looked at me as if I were his hero."

"Exactly. He loves you. Do not doubt this."

"It's so hard Mare. He almost spoke of it Mare, whatever it is that has him walking this tight rope of his. But than it was as if the shame were to much for him to bare and he pushed me a way, though he let me comfort him a little."

"He let you hold him than?"

"Yes."

"That's a good sign. But, have you given any more thought to my earlier suggestion about the therapist?"

"Yes, I think it would do him some good, but."

"Call Dr. Ambrose Adam, trust me. He can help you guys."

"Mare," Methos warned, "don't push. Duncan isn't ready to see anybody yet. He's not even ready to speak about what happened in New York yet. A therapist wouldn't be a very good one if he forced his patients to tell all when they're not ready. And we're not ready."

"True, one does have to be able to admit to a problem before a problem can be solved. But sometimes emotions leave you unable to deal, unable to admit..." She sighed letting her words trail off into nothingness. "When you're both ready Adam, make the appointment."

"I can't promise you anything Mare. Duncan is very pig headed."

"Just do it Adam, and thank me later." With that said she hung up.

Methos sighed heavily then he too hung up his phone and returned to his bed and his sleeping treasure. "Damn stubborn Scot." he grumbled before he then wrapped himself protectively around Duncan, then he too drifted back to sleep. The weekend was promising to be a lazy one.

**Chapter 6**

Kate studied Sir Guy Gavriel Adencourt's face. Kell had taught her always to hire the best and he was the best. His reports had been complete, concise and actually contained information she wanted to read.

He held nothing back from her, another plus in her book. And now he was giving her the information she had desperately sought.

"The young man, Nathan Pierce, another person watching our assignment, was finally convinced to give me the background you were looking for. It seems that MacLeod and Pierson belong to a rather spectacular undercover group called Immortals. And these tattooed people are a group that watches Immortals. He kept babbling about some oath. His training wasn't very complete; he expected me to let him live after he talked."

"Did he explain to you about Immortals, Sir Guy?"

"Yes, enough for me to understand that you are a member of that group, and that Duncan MacLeod killed your friend Mr Kell quite brutally. Mr Pierce explained to me that Immortals run around killing each other for some kind of thrill called a Quickening. And the only way to kill someone like Mr MacLeod is by beheading him."

"Mr MacL:eod is not the target here, it is his "friend" Mr Pierson. There is more than one way to destroy a man; taking what he loves the most is more effective. Kell taught me that. Death can actually be an anticlimactic blessing for someone like Duncan MacLeod.

Now, did Mr Pierce have any information about this Methos person?"

"Kate, I know you are an Immortal; I know Mr Kell was an Immortal. Pierson and MacLeod are Immortals. But it seems that you should know this yourself. May I ask why you need to know this?"

"I was never comfortable around my "kind" of people." Here Kate's face showed her real distate for what she was and what Duncan was. Sir Guy noted it. "We give each other headaches, can you believe that? I "feel" one of us, and I go the other way. Kell took me in to protect me, he came to me unarmed and said he just wanted to help me. Can you imagine how few Immortals would ever do that? He was my protector, my friend, my teacher. He and I went through centuries in a perfect understanding until Duncan MacLeod destroyed my life again. And I choose not to tell you more about that.

"Kell was killing Immortals, he was gaining the power to become the One, which is the last Immortal left. Since I have never taken a head myself, I could survive with him until the end of time. We could've always been together. Kell told me that, he wanted us to be together forever. I am alone with a lot of money and a lot of time on my hands. I do not want to be alone. But I do have a purpose now, and that is to see Kell's murderer punished."

Sir Guy listened carefully. What she told him was different from what Pierce told him, but he could see that she believed it. It didn't matter. Information, even incorrect information, could be valuable.

"According to Pierce, Methos is a legend among the Immortals. This group of his, the Watchers, have been trying to find him for over 1000 years, they just get hints and tastes of him. They could see where he'd been until about 600 AD when all the barbarian invasions brought down the Roman Empire in Europe, and after that he disappeared."

"What makes him important?"

"He's old, Kate, he's old in a way even the rest of the Immortals take seriously: Pierce says theybegan to report him over 5000 years ago. They don't have a description anymore, all they know is that he is a man. It seems like there were no descriptions of him in the Watcher records before he disappeared because they knew what he looked like and he wasn't really hidden. Other Immortals are hunting him for that Quickening-burst, because after 5000 years, it should be impressive. When you say you never took anybody's head, it seems he was quite the toreador back in the old days. He didn't seem to seek 'em out, but he never ran from a fight either.

The records on your Mr Kell was over 500 kills, the records on Methos were twice that many. I think he would be a valuable commodity to anyone who was a member of your club, that's for sure."

"Did Pierce know that the librarian was Methos?"

"Hadn't a clue. Pierson is pretty good. And Duncan MacLeod has never let it out; I think Joe Dawson knows, at least the tapes discuss him knowing, so he might be a good acquisition."

"I am not hunting old cripples. We have what we need now to teach Duncan MacLeod why he should've gotten down on his knees before Jacob Kell.

You know, Sir Guy, I have never really discussed what I am with anyone; Jacob knew, and he understood why I never liked to talk about it. Your understanding has been an incredible aid to me; I was apprehensive how you would react to knowing about us. I knew a man of your intelligence and dilligence would find out. And this has been so much better than I expected.

No, Pierson will be the acquisition. Then Duncan MacLeod can find out how it feels to have centuries stretching out before you, alone. And he can know it's all because of him."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It unnerved him to have a phone stalker calling his house. This place was supposed to be his safety and instead it was turning into a new nightmare. His mind couldn't get past that it might be a rogue watcher again, after him. Only this time they were out to keep him insane. Or maybe it was someone else, someone from long ago with an old grudge, but who was it?

Who could it possibly be?

Surely not Kate?

Hadn't Kate though said she hated him? Yet, it had been Kate in New York who had aided him against Kell. Why would she do this? What could she possibly hold against him? Oh, well, sure there was that tiny little fact that if it hadn't been for Duncan Macleod of the Clan Macleod Kate would still have been mortal and blessedly unenlightened for years to come or maybe she would have been one of the lucky few who actually died a mortal in old age? Who could tell about these things.

It was definitely someone who knew everything. And knew it all in great detail. Someone knew. That same someone was going to tell on him. He was going to lose Methos.

He was shaking very badly by the end of the newest harassment call. "Stop it!" he cried. "Stop calling here!" His voice was rising and going shrill. Someone on the other end of the line laughed. Duncan slammed the receiver down and yanked the cord out of the wall. Methos would not be pleased. He knew having the phone off line worried his over protective paranoid lover.

Methos liked to call in the afternoons or before lunch break. The last time Duncan had unplugged the phone he'd gotten a very upset, very worried, very cranky old immortal barging in to the house, sword drawn and ready to take the head of the bastard who had dared to take Macleod's head. After they had both calmed down Duncan had explained (lied) that persistent sales people kept calling the house and he didn't want the noise. Methos didn't look a bit like he bought the lie at all. His eyes were narrowed nostrils flaring, poker face slowly sliding back into place. Duncan couldn't meet Methos eyes at all after that.

Methos than decided it was time they got an answer machine, that way those pesky sales people could go solicit somewhere else. Because Mac had been adamant in his refusal to speak the truth about the phone calls, Methos decided that he would not tell Mac about his own experiences at work with some sick woman speaking on his answer machine there.

A woman, he very much believed to be, Kate/Faith O'Connor. The Bitch told him a lot of things, mostly lies. He hoped they were lies, things made up in a delusional mind. But they were still things enough to make Methos break out in a cold sweat and doubt the strength of his and Mac's relationship.

Would they last? Or would Mac leave him for Kate? Mac had been a vigorous heterosexual before meeting Methos. Methos still half the time couldn't believe that Mac continued to choose him over a normal life, which he knew his Highlander craved like crazy.

He prayed most nights that Duncan would never wake up from whatever mid life crisis he was in and turn straight again, he also prayed to those beings he had never believed in and continued not to believe in, that Duncan never leave him, not for Kate and not for any one else either or for any reason whatsoever. He wasn't strong enough to survive that kind of break up. Mac was his other half, the missing part of his heart and soul and being. He also prayed that Mac survive this grief which was killing him and taking him from Methos' arms.

Please don't choose her over me. Please God, don't let him leave me. I need him. He's what keeps me good and decent. If I ever lost him I'd go insane. 

I'd kill him before he ever left me. Hissed his barbaric and somewhat posessive side. Methos the enlightened part told that part of him to shut up and that there was no way in hell he'd ever try to kill the Highlander.

Still, he couldn't help but mutter under his breath. "Mac's too important to lose."

Methos knew he was just driving himself bonky with all this speculation. His mind whirling in circles growing darker and darker and more depressive as his thought continued down the same path. But than a small ray of hope parted the gloomy mists of his thoughts. The Highlander never breaks his oath. His honor will keep him by your side. 

Honor was a very big part of who and what the Highlander was. For Honor Mac could die and often he did put his life at risk for Honor's sake. On their honor, they each had made a vow to each other in the eyes of the Gods and mortal and immortal witnesses alike. The gold bands at their fingers even said as much.

But did he not also make the same vow to her in turn? interrupted his gloomy side again. Then the anger which he kept tightly reigned in came forth. What was New York about than? What was that thing he did with her? He fucked her! He didn't keep his fucking word of honor. He didn't keep to his vow, their vow! He's lying to you, even now, he's lying to you. You know he's lying to you, you know it. Did you really think this was going to last? That the two of you would see forever together? He's never been gay before. He's never been with another man like this before. He's going to leave you. 

SHUT UP!!!! he roared silently, railed back at his angry pessimistic and dark side. You sound like her, just like her, now. he accused himself. Gods above and below! I don't ever want to hear those words coming from me again. He's not going to leave me. He's not! 

We love Mac and we will fight to the death to keep him. 

Yeah, but what if he doesn't want to be kept? 

Methos spluttered, faltered, than was silent.

Yes, what if Duncan didn't want to be cherished by him or kept by him any more?... We can't just keep him with us against his will. That is not who we are now. That is not what we are about now. We are no longer Death, we are Methos once more and Adam Pierson-Macleod now. We cannot return to the barbarism of our previous existence. We've grown past that. If Duncan wishes to leave me, I will let him go, not gladly, of course but like that old saying about birds flying free and if one was meant to keep them they would fly back to your open hand. It is all that I can do for him.

I love him. I want him to be happy. I want to take care of him and look after him and be with him forever but if it's not meant to be than, well, I will at least put up a good fight for him. Besides you're just jumping to bad conclusions here. Has he even once shown a sign that he no longer wants you? 

A pause and then the obnoxious side of him chirped up again.

Hello! just flash back to last night if you need to ease your mind. That was him down on his knees sucking you off against the wall last night, and that was him on top of you later that same evening in bed, and then did you or did you not get to top him in the bathtub? I think that was, yes most definitely so. You On Top Of Him, and Him Begging You To Do IT. His better humorous side howled in laughter at him. Laughing at his paranoid depressive fantasies, as well as laughing its ass off at his sudden embarrassment as a certain part of his anatomy decided to perk up to the flashbacks of exceptional sex. Methos was soon chuckling out loud, laughing at himself and brushing off all of his insecurities for the time being.

It was always like that. Like they just couldn't get enough of each other, all the time. And another fact to take note of was how often Duncan let him get away with calling him Baby, Darling, Lover, Love and other endearments, let alone all the hugging and petting and general touchy-feely cuddling that went on inside their household. Duncan had never once rejected his show of feelings, not once, not since they had gotten back together.

Before the ordeal; before the renewal of vows; before the wedding; before the rings, before a lot of things, yes Mac had been unable to accept the physical side of their relation. Had been afraid to indulge in their love. Duncan's upbringing, the church, the time period in which he had lived all of it had conspired to ruin them the first time around, let alone the trust issue after the horsemen and Cassandra incident. But now things were different better for the most part and yet worse, because Connor Macleod, Goddamn him! had demanded the ultimate show of love and devotion, by demanding that Duncan be the one to take his quickening and with it his life. Leaving an emotionally wrecked and grief stricken lone single surviving highlander behind him.

The new answering machine and the new phone number change worked for a while but soon enough the stalker merely called hanged up called back again hanged up again would redial the number and hang up and call back. It was driving Duncan to the breaking point, he finally decided to call the phone company and get their number changed for the third time which did not make the phone company particularly pleased with him. They assured him that this time no one would get his number, but somehow or other the damned stalker got the new number as well.

Duncan began to live his life in fear again. He hadn't felt like this in a long time. Not since the wars, not since Culloden and being a Scotsman could get his head cut off. The stalker wanted him to be afraid, wanted him hysterical and crazy. He tried to stay calm he really did. But than the post cards started showing up. The first time luckily Methos had dismissed it as some weird joke.

But Mac had gotten the picture's meaning. It was of a dark haired man and rustic brown haired woman in the bouts of passion. Methos had made a snide remark on it, than joked about bad porn flicks. Which of course did not go over well with Duncan. Porn was not something Duncan particularly approved of and Methos knew that. So Duncan's feelings had gotten hurt, even as a new spike of fear was added to the nervous breakdown he was on the very edge of having. After the first time, he made sure that it would never happen again, so he made sure to catch the post and to burn the cards before Methos got home each day. Mac just didn't know any other way to deal with this matter. Besides, how could he possibly explain this all to Methos, let alone to his nephew who would be arriving any day soon, now.

Methos didn't fail to notice how Mac seemed even more agitated and defeated than usual nor did he fail to see Mac always seemed to get the mail now, never letting Methos thumb through it until after he was finished with it. Methos chose not to interrogate Mac on the matter but he was very much aware that something weird was going on. Something very nasty. Methos on several occasions tried to get Mac to open up and speak of the problem but Mac refused to cooperate.

As the date for John Macleod and Family's arrival began to get closer and closer, Mac was frantic and finally decided to tell Methos the truth about the phone calls at last.

"What's going on here, Duncan? This is all very disconcerting. The phone line is never available. I can't go tearing off out of work for more unfounded knee-jerk reactions. Tell me what's going on here Duncan." Besides Mare is already curious about my telephone logs as it is. That woman was not someone that he could long keep the wool pulled over her eyes. She was already on his case enough about Mac and his relationship troubles. He didn't want her to know about the insane stalker on the phone. Nor that the stalker happened to be an old flame of Duncan's or that that same old flame was Duncan's x-wife! 

Duncan shrugged, twiddled with the phone cord. "Can we start using our cell phones only? Someone keeps calling here, the answering machine isn't working. Its driving me crazy to have the phone ring and then have the machine pick up only to have the sound of a phone hanging up be on the machine. I'm tired of the ringing and the click and the snap and... and... please can't we just use our cell phones?"

Methos sighed then draped his arms around his slumped beloved. "All right babe, whatever you want," he said, "If this is upsetting you like this, than all right, let's unhoook the damned phone and use our cells. I mean we've got the money to burn after all. Right?" Methos husky voice in his ear, the heat of his body draped over Duncan's own, and Methos' gentle encouraging smile stabbed Duncan clear through the heart.

Methos made it sound all so non-challant, so every day, like it was no hassle, no problem to deal with. Almost something to laugh intimately over in bed together at night.

"Thank you Methos." he whispered hoarsely.

Methos was always so loving and understanding. Duncan really didn't think he deserved Methos like this. He was so ashamed. He was lying to Methos, keeping secrets from Methos. He didn't deserve Methos at all. Guilt and shame was eating away at his heart. Sweet God how he loved Methos so!

He also knew that Methos wasn't stupid and that Methos had to know on some kind of level that something was going on, something other than what Duncan was telling him it was. Which only allowed another wall of silence, denial and secrets to resurrect itself between them. Besides that, Duncan didn't know how much longer he could keep on distracting his irresistible lover with sex, or other distractions, before the old timer would himself figure out the full truth of their situation. All of it Duncan's fault.

Methos was in danger because of Duncan, once again. The phone stalker said he'd kill Methos soon. That he knew what they were. The phone stalker told him that he would force him to take in Methos' quickening as he'd been made to take in Jacob Galati's. That Duncan would be made to pay for his crimes. "His betrayal."

Methos was startled a fraction as Mac returned his gentle hug with a bone crushing one and a look of fear in his eyes. Methos stroked Mac's face and gentled him with soothing words and touch.

"What is it Mac? Is it Connor again? What has you so afraid, my love?"

Mac tried to answer but found no words at first, clearing his throat he than tried to speak again, whispering. "N-noth'n. It's nothing, just a stupid thought, that's all. It's this phone thing. I hate it. I hate it."

Her voice floated back to him in memory. The recording burned into his heart and mind. "_You Will Know What Pain Is, soon, Duncan. You Will Know What It Is Like To Lose All That You Love, Soon, Very Soon._" Click.

Duncan tried to pull himself back together but found to his horror that his lower lip was trembling and a new bout of tears had come into his eyes. Yes, Yes Goddammit! I'm terrified. Terrified that something bad is going to happen to you Methos and I wont be able to stop it. I'm so afraid of losing you. It hurts. 

Connor swam before his teary eyes looking at his kinsman with so much sympathy and pity in his ghostly countenance.

"Go away, Connobhar." he hissed on Methos shoulder. Suddenly, irrationally furious with the ghost's presence. Methos stiffened and gave him another worried searching look, which Duncan failed to see, but not Connor. Nor did Connor miss the fear in the ancient's eyes, the fear that his lover was terminally insane.

"It's all right baby." whispered Methos, beginning to rock his friend in his arms. Stroking Mac's back and hair. "It's all right."

"No, no it's noht." he choked, his accent coming thick into his voice, "Noth'n's all ri'et. Noth'n will e'er be all ri'et, noht ever again." he denied. Watching Connor slowly fade into the mists at Duncan's command.

Over the days her Voice filled every tape at the college and at the Pierson-Macleod residence.

"Traitor." To Mac

"Murderer." To Mac

"He's Going To Die." To Mac

"Die In So Much Agony"

Ring-ring, answering machine picks up. Heavy Breathing on the line. Click. Ring-ring, more heavy breathing on the line. Click. Ring-ring, a low moan his name on succulent female lips. "Duuunnncaaaannnn. Oooooooo. Duuuncaaaaannn."

Duncan yanks the receiver up and screams desperately. "Leave ma alone! Stop it! Stop it! This is sick. Leave ma alone." he sobbed brokenly. Her laughter filled him with self loathing and disgust. He slammed the receiver down and yanked the plug out.

The dogs were sweetly looking on him with concern. Soft whines escaping their throats. They were gifts from Robert and Gina DeValincourt and a very real blessing in his and Methos lives. They adored their dogs. Dimitri, the alpha chow was dark as night and proud as the highlander himself was. The two girls, Aerwyn and Nana, were golden brown and the gentlest of souls. Duncan sighed bowed his own head and cried into the soft manes of his proud pack mates.

** The College **

"He's Going To Leave You." to Adam

"You Should Know Better Than To Trust, Him Old One." to Adam.

"I know what you are." to Both.

"He Likes Women." To Adam

"He's Married To One." to Adam

"He's Going To Leave You."

"He Betrayed Me. What Makes You Think He Wont Betray You? Those Preposterous Wedding Rings Of Yours? Please Do Make Me Laugh. It Pleases Him So Much To Hear Me Laugh."

Methos yanked the plug out and threw the phone across his office, shattering it into several chunks and wires and broken circuit board. Marion popped her head into the office, eyes wide at the mess and at what she had heard. Methos was cursing the fowl piece of technology into the next ice age.

"Adam, do you want to talk about it, sweety?"

"No!" he growled out, then with visible effort he just barley managed to get a grip on his out of control emotions and than calmly turned to his friend and associate.

"Thank you for the offer Mare, but that wont be necessary. Its done with. My tantrum is over. I am now calm and I will now go to my morning lecture. I'll see you at lunch."

"Wait a minute Adam, I think you should talk about this with some one, if not me, than with that therapist I told you about, right away. This is getting out of hand. This is not at all like you. You don't get pissed off like that, not ever. What's happened between you and Mac now?"

"I told you it was nothing Mare. Now leave it alone."

"Adam." she hissed.

"Mare." he growled.

They were at a stand still. Mare wasn't going to back down this time. She wanted him to talk. Talk to her or to the therapist or someone anyone just as long as he talked and he and Mac were fixed.

"All right. I have someone in mind." Joe will see that a therapist in the watchers association can help us. That way we don't have to go into any messy explanations or both be institutionalized for insanity. Paranoid Delusions of an Immortality complex or some such nonsensical crap like that. 

"Well, who is it?"

"No one that you would know. Just let it be Mare. We're going to get help soon. Honest."

He tried the cute Pierson act which unfortunately never worked on Mare, probably because she was totally female oriented and had no sexual feelings at all towards him let alone marshmellow sisterly feelings either. She had major butch older sister feelings for him and would do what she felt was best for his own good if need be. It was quite the experience and Methos really didn't know why he put up with it. Maybe for the same reasons that he did so with Joe. Family. He loved her like she really was his sister.

"Mare please, please. I swear on my love for Duncan we're going to go see someone sometime within the next two weeks. I swear it."

"You may not have two weeks to fuck around with Adam. This is serious. You're losing each other so fast. Don't let this thing between you slip away. He's your world Adam, once he's gone, God only knows what you'll do without him. Hell, god only knows what I would do with you, as a broken emptied out shell. Don't fuck this up Adam. And Don't, let him fuck this up either."

Adam's eyes closed and to his immense horror he felt tears slip out from his eyes. Too much frustration, too much pain. Mare grabbed him up in a full bear hug and held him till the tears stopped and he was late for his lecture. His students carefully kept from commenting on their teacher's red rimmed eyes and disheveled state. Everyone knew that the professor and his lover were having serious troubles of late. There was even a rumor in the mill going round that the two would eventually split at the end of the semester.

Duncan's break down from days earlier led to serious worries for Methos. Mac seemed to watch out the windows more often, in fact Mac was getting down right horrifyingly paranoid. The mail piled up in the box if Methos didn't take care of it. He noticed that the strange post cards were missing though. (because at Mac's request the postman burned the things at the post office for him.

The post man, Bob, rather liked the Pierson-Macleods, he'd never met a more charming duo or a kinder guy in his life, and why anyone would harass the guys was beyond his imagination. Besides Mac was always showing him hospitality with fresh made goodies like cookies or fresh coffee, hot cocoa or squeezed juice. Adam Pierson had, in the postman's, Bob's, own humble opinion lucked out big time with Duncan Macloed for a catch. So if he could do Mac and Adam this one small favor, sure why not? No harm done. Though Bob had voiced the opinion of worry that by doing this it meant some crucial evidence in a civil case would be lost, that is if Mac and Adam ever found the perv and decided to sue, one form of evidence would forever be lost to the courts. Mac had of course somehow talked him out of those worries on their account.

"We've got other evidence and all these post cards will do is hurt Adam. I'm not in those pictures. That's someone else and some woman I have never seen before. But with that resemblance in there it will do everything to hurt Adam." Macleod explained.

So for Mac's and Adam's sakes Bob destroyed the photos/post cards. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Methos was worried that once John and his family arrived Duncan would be unable to host their arrival or show them a good time in London. Since Mac hardly, no amend that, Mac never stepped outside the house now, not for any reason. Not even to kiss him farewell in the mornings, not even to step foot in the doorway. This was extreme and was indeed a cause for extreme concern. Mac wasn't by nature a homebody. Mac liked to be doing things. Mac liked to be out and about, get lost in the crowds and shop through the day. Chat with friends, visit friends, go to restaurants and theaters and listen to the orchestra at the symphony.

Mac was usually a busy bee of activity. He liked to horse around with the chow chows and take them for long walks in the neighborhood. Now Mac was changed. He slept through the day, did a minimum amount of house cleaning, at least he kept himself clean, but home cooked meals were gone. The dogs didn't get walked unless it was Methos doing the walking. The dogs were worried. Everything seemed to be too much for him. Mac was a ruin. He was even too tired to read a book. Mac loved books! He was a lot like Methos in that regard. For Mac to be too tired to read a book or practice his usual daily routine of exercise, sword kata and meditation, well that meant serious troubles. Yet Mac had times when he was glued to the windows searching for something, keeping look out for some kind of enemy activity or something, was also another reason to worry.

"Mac, I think we should rethink this whole family visit thing." he knew it was the wrong thing to say, but he needed to get this out, being blunt never hurt in their relationship besides it was a change from all of the usual tip toeing and lying going on lately around their household.

Duncan was startled by Methos' declaration and hurt too by it. "What do yew mean?" he asked. That stricken, kicked puppy look on his face.

"Duncan, you know I love you. You know I'm worried about you. Look in the mirror, sweet heart. Look at yourself. I just don't think you're really up to this. You should be thinking of your..." Mental health Something not spoken but definitely understood between them. Mac knew he wasn't well, but he didn't like to admit to it or think about it either.

"Of your," stumbling over the words. "yourself, here. You've been put under a lot of stress, baby. I'm not complaining but I must point out to you that you don't get out of bed, you don't go outside the house, you aren't yourself. John will be even more stress on you. I think this should be put off until you're stronger and more... yourself."

Duncan protested hotly at first but Methos persuaded and than argued him into compliance, no one had yet to win an argument with Methos, not even the Highlander. Macleod had walked out on many occasions on such arguments before. Macleod could only be pushed so far before words would desert him and he would have to leave for fear that if he didn't than he'd behead someone, namely Methos. But since he no longer ran away and couldn't bring himself to leave the house he had no choice but to give in. He slumped but dialed his nephew's number and waited for Johnny to pick up the phone.

Found to his and Methos horror that John was already on route and they couldn't get in touch with him just leave a message on the machine.

"I thought you said the little bugger would call us first before leaving?" demanded Methos, color high in his cheeks, flushed with irritation.

"I thought that it was what we agreed upon, yes. Wait, I just thought of something, maybe Johny couldn't get through to us because of the craziness with the phones. I'm sorry Methos. I'm really really sorry."

"Oh Mac, this isn't your fault, honey. Jesus, don't look at me like that. Its not your fault. And when they get here, well, maybe I'm wrong, may be you will be up to this task. " Gods! Gods! Gods! he howled silently uselessly in his mind. Can things never happen as I have wished?! Can they never go according to plan? What is this with Mac and Me, bad luck?! Snort. I don't believe in bad luck. This is a set up for something, I just know it is. Damn that Bitch! If she were standing here right now in front of me I'd... I'd... I'd kill her, slowly, no swiftly so Mac didn't suffer more from the witnessing of it. Damn, damn, damn. 

"How long ago do you think they left?" asked Mac quietly inching into Methos arms for further security and comfort.

Managing with much effort to contain his fury and agitation, Methos replied neutrally. "I really couldn't say. My guess, I just don't know. We can only hope that it was today and that it was a late flight and that we will have until sometime tomorrow before they arrive, late tomorrow, if we're lucky." which we usually aren't. "Plan on an early arrival and let's call a cleaning service to whip this place into shape, all right?"

Mac nodded, he was over joyed that John would be there soon. He missed his nephew terribly. It had been so long since they last saw each other. Was it really that long ago? In Hawaii wasn't it? John's high school graduation wasn't it? Damn my head's so foggy. I can barely think. Yes, yes it was Hawaii. Flash back of surf sun and beach and a joyful, ecstatic Connor and Jonathan Macleod entered his head. The scene was something from a movie. It had been one of those very few and far between perfect days for them. Connor laughing at Mac's current dilemma, the Hawaiian girls were chasing after him along with no few men, each one with flowery lays trying to decorate him with them. Fat pettled flowers were also twined through his long curly hair, island sari around his waist and he was running for all that he was worth. Duncan finally made it to safety or so he thought but, these were islanders after all, so swimming after him they went.

Finally Connor conspired against him and then Duncan was buried in lays and male and female attentions. Connor had something witty to say. Johnny was simply laughing his head off at his uncle's plight. Duncan graciously accepted every kiss to his lips and cheeks from men as well as women who all had hopeful gleams in their eyes. Stoically Duncan survived through Connor's wit and constant teasing, but in all it had been a perfect, perfect, vacation. No deadly battles between immortals, no enemies to hunt or be hunted by. No pain of the heart. Just fun in the sun and learning to surf and ride the waves, canoeing, luaos, alcoholic beverages galore, and the music and the lazy heated afternoons. It was a perfect day, and now a perfect untarnished memory.

Ten years? No, twenty years ago. That's right. Twenty years ago. Johny would now be in his mid thirties.

Her voice suddenly filled the room. Low, husky, sexy, practically purring over the phone. Her voice was meant to drive fear into her enemies, or to drive a man crazy with desire.

"I'm Watching You." she husked.

Both Immortals flew across the room and yanked the phone out together. It should have occurred to either one of them to ask the other point blank. "You know her?" But neither man did. They shared a single look and than a single motivation, an objective too big to ignore its immediacy, to get rid of the phone permanently, since neither man could dispatch the woman since she was not there for them to take their fear and anger out on.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

On the stop over Joe Dawson boarded the same plain as Jonathan Macleod and Tara and baby daughter Michaela. It was pure luck and coincidence that the three of them meet. Joe Dawson couldn't believe his eyes. They even had adjoining seats. They managed to strike up a conversation. Joe introduced himself as the owner of Le Blues Bar, confidante by trade, blues singer by profession, bar tender by necessity. This made John and Tara crack smiles and chuckle. Joe Dawson was extremely charming and he was putting all that charm to good work. The southern drawl never failed to hypnotize and disarm most people as well. His voice compelled them to him and trapped them in his metaphorical spell.

He then unfolded a couple of pictures from his wallet and showed them to John and his wife. John's eyes widened with surprise then he laughed and shook his head with awe. The world truly was a small and wondrous place. There was his Uncle Mac in a tuxedo and beside him was another man in a less fashionable outfit. The two men were sitting at a table with Joe Dawson drinking their beers each one saluting the camera person with their draft of whatever pale ale they were sipping away at. In another picture was a rather grungy Macleod in a pair of jeans bursting at the seams with wear and tear, holes and fringes in the knees and other places, black high tops also grungy and a college sweater, hair long and pulled back in a customary pony tail. By his side was the same guy from the previous photo only this time the guy was a dressier outfit.

The next photo was of Joe, Mac, Amanda, Connor and the DeValincourts and of course the guy from the previous two photos. Mac and the other guy were in some kind of formal silk dragon inlay mandarin shirts, one in black the other in blue. And this time John noticed the rings on Mac and the other guy's fingers. Matching gold rings. At first John couldn't comprehend what his eyes were telling him. First he was stunned that Mac had been married and that Connor knew of it but hadn't told John or even that either man had invited him to the ceremony. Sure John had been hard at college working on his thesis paper and exploring the jungles of Peru but He would have put it all aside to see his Uncle's wedding.

"It was a civil union." Said Joe quietly. "They were wedded in Hawaii and then again in a private ceremony in Paris, civil unions are quietly upheld and mostly ignored. Mac wanted you there, he truly did. But Connor didn't feel that your studies should have been interrupted and besides he knew how you felt about Immortals. His name is Adam by the way, and he is also an immortal. They're very happy together, to everyone's surprise they're quite well suited to each other as well though they're total opposites and Adam is the older of them and so age is a big thing issue between Immortals some times. Mac has felt a little overwhelmed from time to time with Adam for his spouse but they love each other. The sun sets and rises for Mac in Adam's eyes and it's the same for Adam with Mac. "

John swallowed painfully. His world had just turned upside down. He didn't know what to think. "I… see." He commented in a small voice with a bewildered expression on his face. "So you know this Adam? Is he a good man? Duncan's gone through a lot these last few years. I don't want him to get hurt. So, they're married and sharing a home? Is he anything like Amanda? Does he mooch off of Uncle Duncan? Is he playing with my Uncle's affections?"

"You're jumping to a lot of conclusions young man. However, I'm going to put you straight on this. Adam and Mac love each other. They've been together nearly thirteen years give or take a split up or two and a year here or there. They were friends first then eventually, (and this surprised all of us including Adam the most) Mac asked Adam out on a date, a real date. They ended up moving in together by the end of the first week of courting, and then they were lovers for a while and then Mac proposed and they were hitched in Hawaii not long after."

"Connor was there of course. The sly old dog had known that Mac and Adam were going to get hitched long before any of us figured it out. Personally I didn't think they'd last. Mac was always attracted to women before and now suddenly he was in love with M-Adam. The odds were not in their favor. I was sad to see that a few years later I was right. They separated from each other had a big huge blow out, the like of which I never want to see ever again. The two of them were in pieces and too stubborn to get their asses back where they belonged, together. I know that they had tried to behead each other to. It was horrible. I will never know what the whole argument had been about or why it was that it was so huge that it caused them to split up or caused them to try and kill each other over. Somehow I think it had something to do with the pull of the game. For months they were wrecks of the persons I had once known. They couldn't be in the same house or bar or on the same bus without trying to kill each other."

"The DeValincourts told me once in private that this kind of thing always happens with Immortal couples. They have centuries to live and they will pull away from one another and when the game pulls them to kill one another they will split up for a while but after ward they would get back together again. It had to be true since Gina and Robert have been married three hundred years now. I found that it was indeed true because not long after this had been revealed to me Mac and M-Adam did get back together again. In fact they were more solid then I could remember them ever being before and then Connor disappeared and slowly the worry and the guilt ate away at Mac and he again pulled away from Adam. Making everyone miserable again with their separation."

"My contacts in the Watchers tell me they're back together again and this leaves us in a volatile situation at present. I don't want to see my friends split up or try to kill each other again. Mac's in an emotional upheaval with Connor's death and his own part in it. Its killing him. Adam's being extremely supportive and very loving, more so then usual. Adam's a kind man, a compassionate man. He's also a "lived it, done it, bought the T-shirt" kind of guy, he's old, very old, and so he's a little snarky, a little sarcastic, cynical, crotchety, kind of a know-it-all. He also likes to pull pranks on people. He's also tight with his money, have I mentioned, very loving? And he's very compassionate. There's no lengths to which he will not go for a friend or for a lover. When he loves, he gives his all."

"John you have to remember this fact. Mac's an Immortal and so is Adam. Immortals are as human as you or I, you were raised by two of them so I shouldn't have to explain this to you. But here it goes. Immortals are as human, as good or as bad as anyone else is. However, they live long lives. They take many roads, some choose to follow the same path all their lives while others choose to find new ways and travel those new ways until they feel a need to move on into another direction. Do you get what I'm saying here? Duncan and Adam have chosen this path to follow for good or bad for all times or for this short time. Mac and Adam love each other not for their sex but for who they are as individuals. It took Mac a little longer then it did M-Adam to get over the whole Male thing and I think he may still be a little touchy on the subject, but he is totally devoted and in love with Adam, as is Adam in love and devotion to Mac. Do you get what I'm saying here pal?"

"I get it Joe, God do I get it." Said John still a little wild about the eyes. Still in shock. Tara held her husband's hand in a firm and supportive grip.

"You're a Macleod Johnny." Said Joe. "You were raised by two very strong, very loving, male immortal figures. And I know for a fact that Connor was open minded and so is Mac, so what's your hang up? I would think being raised by open hearted, open minded, men as these two that you wouldn't have very much trouble in dealing with this new aspect to your Uncle's life.

"Listen Johnny, I know this is difficult, but you've got to suck it up for Mac. He's in a fragile state of mind right now. Losing Connor was very traumatizing for him, you know that without me having to say it for you. He's experienced so much pain in his long life. He's experienced people's hate, their ignorance, he's been ostracized once before by his family, I don't think he could suffer another exile from clan, it'd kill him. He's experienced so much loss and death in his life. IF you can't accept him for who he is right now then don't go to his home. Don't visit him at this time. You could say or do something that would impede his healing and right now he needs to heal Johnny. He needs to heal very badly. He's walking the edge even as we speak. So if you've got reservations I suggest very strongly that you turn around right now and go home if you can't love your Uncle or accept his choice in his spouse."

Jonathan took a long time to think. He loved his Uncle and Joe was right he had been raised to accept all people in all walks of life, even his job as an Anthropologist/ Archeologist didn't leave him with prejudices. He didn't know why he was finding this so hard to handle. This was Mac's life, who was he to judge? He had never been afraid of Mac in his life even after finding out Mac was an Immortal like Connor his adopted Father and all the troubles and dangers that came with that knowledge, he had never been afraid, not once. Now Mac was choosing a different life style and suddenly Johnny was having doubts about his Uncle's character? Jeesh! How stupid, how childish and ignorant could he be?

Tara caught his eyes with her own serious green ones.

"Johnny love, you know my views on sexuality, I haven't any troubles with it. No bias to bring up that would keep us from your Uncle's door. I always believed that a man's or woman's life was their own and who they choose to spend it with is their business as well. I have no strong negative feelings towards this life style. I always thought as long as it was in private and behind closed doors and I didn't have to see it or be witness to it then I was all right with it. But this is Duncan's house Johnny and I cannot in good conscience ask them to behave or limit themselves while we are there. This is their private residence and it is we who are the interlopers there. We're the ones taking up space in their life and I cannot, I will not object to whatever love they have for each other. Besides all of that, Duncan is family and he needs us right now. I will not have us abandon him just because we cannot understand this new life choice he has made."

Johnny continued to ponder things even long after his wife had fallen silent and Joe with her. Each waiting in turn for what Johnny was going to say next. He loved Duncan greatly. His Uncle had been a big part of his life while growing up. He'd spent holidays and summer vacations with Duncan along side of his father after the death of his mother. He remembered Duncan's smile, his laughter his constant teasing and charm and boundless love. Duncan was a compassionate, gallant, and extravagant knight compared to his solemn father. Duncan had been a bold presence in his and his father's lives. It was Duncan that always got Connor to laugh or to have fun, tempering levity and humor with duty and seriousness. Duncan's smile lit up his mind, his laughter always balm upon his sore heart when he'd missed his mother the most.

Duncan had always been more of a second father then an Uncle, more caring then anyone he'd ever met and kinder then most people as well. Duncan had always left him in awe. Duncan also tended to attract people like a candle to the needy moths. He'd watched his Uncle overcome time and time again, his emotional reserves all used up by those around him in need. Duncan was always giving of himself, sacrificing himself for the better good of everyone around him. Giving of his spirit, his heart and his money. And people used him up, they drained him dry and left him to suffer, always alone, always.

People just expected Duncan Macleod would never break and that he would be there for them always, never used up, always magically refilled, his reservoir of strength replenished and ready to be used all over again. But those people were wrong. Duncan got used up and he took a long time to heal from such hard usage. Duncan should have grown old and bitter and warn out long before now, but Duncan had always had Connor and now Connor was gone. Who was there to keep the pieces known as Duncan Macleod put back together again? Was this Adam that person? Joe seemed to think so.

"All right, you say that this Adam isn't using Uncle Mac, that he's not going to kill my Uncle or leach off of him for money or power?"

"That's right. They love each other. Adam works for the college in the extinct and archaic languages research department. He's got a job and money squirreled away. He doesn't need Mac's money, he's an immortal and a billionaire in his own right. He just likes to act the poor college student bit for anyone who will listen." Joe laughed and smirked. Methos was the world's oldest pain in the ass, and usually quite the penny pincher at that. There wasn't a dime or penny Methos hadn't met that he didn't like or pick up off the dirty street, the old marauder! The man was incorrigible.

"They live well but modestly. Adam mother hens Mac like no one's business to. Mac's jobless right now but we all figure he needs the rest, any way, Adam pampers him and spoils'm rotten. Mac being in break down mode has brought out the over protective side in Adam right now, so whatever you do, don't piss Adam off. He's older then he looks and he knows how to put people in their place, he has a tongue on him that can strip a man of flesh and flay him alive in under 2.3 seconds. His wrath is to be feared. God knows I love the guy like a son, but boy can he be pissy. He's a moody son of a bitch when he isn't trying to charm his way into getting a free beer. I'd almost think he was Scottish for all the brooding that he does, and he has the audacity to tweak my nose with a tale that it's Mac rubbing off on him." Joe laughs again, a warm and rolling sound that heats and comforts much like Mac's own laughter from long ago vacations. "Why Mac loves and adores the old reprobate is beyond me, though since Mac's gotten his claws into the old timer's heart he's been dam right mellow. All most a marsh-mellow really but he can still get pissy. Don't get him pissy, kid, got me?"

Jonathan Macleod let out another sigh and shook his head. "I'm still not sure how I feel about this. But I love my Uncle and for Duncan's sake I will try my best to get on well with his partner. Though I have to be honest with you Joe, I don't think I quite approve of this Adam character. I know I'm being unreasonable but try to understand. I've never been very good with Immortals especially after that incident when I was a child and nearly killed by that demented Immortal."

"Immortals are bad business. I even have reservations about exposing Michaela to Uncle Duncan's world, still, he is my relation and I love him. He's a good man and like a candle flame to moths, Mac attracts the good as well as the bad in people and in Immortals a like. This Adam could very well be one of the bad, or at the very least an unknown factor. My Uncle's track record when it comes to immortal and love isn't exactly stellar. "

"Joe, I've just met you but I have heard a great deal of you from my Uncle and my Father. You hold their esteem and trust. I have no choice but to trust you in turn. So if you tell me Adam's trust worthy then I will try my best not to upset either my Uncle or his partner. Just know that I have great concern for my Uncle as well as some deep reservations on the matters going on in his life right now."

"All I'm saying Kid is Mac needs your love and respect and understanding right now. Adam is secondary to Mac's needs. However, if you disrespect Adam you'll make an enemy not only of Adam but of Duncan as well. Understand what I'm saying?" asked Joe.

"Yes Joe I think I do." Replied Johnny.

As their plane landed on the strip way their trip at an end the three adults gathered their luggage and passports ready to disembark from the plain and continue to the Macleod-Pierson residence. Johnny would have called the house but as before the phones were again out of order which had him slightly worried. He made a mention of this to Joe who then called on the watchers in his division who explained to them that all was well. That they still had a visual of the house and its owners and all seemed to be in order.

Joe relayed this information to Johnny glad that he could ease some of Johnny's tension and fears. Tara was a quiet and calming presence. Little Michaela was sound asleep also no trouble at all for the adults. Things were going wonderfully smooth for Joe, it wasn't everyday that things turned out so well for him. He thanked his lucky stars and hoped he could begin to talk Johnny into joining the Watchers organization. Joe didn't have plans to retire or die any time soon but one never knew when one's number was called up. He wanted to leave someone behind him that could look out for Mac and Adam when his time came to leave this world. Joe thought Johnny was the perfect candidate. Johnny just needed to get over his fears.

**Chapter 7**

Duncan was so thrilled and so happy and so CLEAN he was driving Methos crazy. But a thrilled happy clean Duncan was so much better than the man who had come back from Connor's funeral three months ago. Methos was content and slightly amused with how frantic they were over Mac's family's visit. Jonny and Margaret and Baby Michaela Nash Macleod were coming and you would've thought the house had been a _**sty**_ from Duncan's cleaning frenzy.

After the second set of "Rent-a-Maids" left, having cleaned everything they could reach, Duncan finally sat down in the parlor and looked around smiling.

"My family is coming to visit. Johnny and Margaret and Baby Nash are coming to see me."

Whether it was Connor who still lived within Duncan or his own joy at family fueling his happiness, he did not care. The house was clean, the food was ordered (Methos had insisted--no cooking for either one of them, just the joy of visiting) and Duncan had even run around making sure everything was baby-proofed.

Yeah, thought Methos, a three-month-old can get into SO much trouble. Maybe the kid can roll over by now.

But he smiled as he thought it.

Johnny had been adamant that he did not want them to go to any trouble over his family's visit. Nor was it necessary for Duncan or Adam to come to the airport to pick them up. He was renting a car for his family and he wanted to get acclimated to driving in England again.

Duncan had thought about protesting, but decided against it. Jonny was a grown man, not the little boy he had known in Connor's house. Whatever Jonny wanted, it was what Duncan wanted. After the sixth time he'd jumped up from the couch to search out the window for any approaching car down their quiet little street, Duncan knew when he saw the blue Cadillac that this car was it. Suddenly Duncan realized the surprise Johnny brought with him. As the car door opened and he saw a silver haired head pop out of the car his breath caught hard in his chest as Joe slowly, stiffly, got out of the car, stretched his back, leaned over a little bit, and then turned towards Duncan's silhouette in the window and smiled. Duncan suddenly felt he was whole again, and very lucky as well, that all of his family had come to visit him together.

He had tears streaming down his cheeks, overly emotional greetings babbled out word as he grabbed his nephew up in a blinding bear hug and then Joe and then gentle hug for the newest members to the Macleod clan. Tara hugged him hard though and the baby Mac held like fine porcelain, gently cradled in his arms, teary brown eyes filled with awe and gentle love. This was his grand niece, he couldn't quite believe that he was holding her at last in his arms, a sweet little baby girl, a baby Macleod.

The chow-chows are a protective breed of dogs and loyal to a fault to their masters when they aren't being stubborn and willful. Adam was trying to keep the dogs from attacking Johnny and family, while Macleod was bear hugging the life out of his nephew and sweetly talking to the new baby. Gritting his teethe Adam growled at the dogs to behave but as usual they never listened to him. They loved him but it was Mac they listened to. His struggles with the great beasts for dogs was slowly crumbling when at long last Macleod took matters into his own hands.

"Adam!" Mac bellowed. "Come on over here and come greet ma nephew and his family."

Adam gritted his teeth and growled at the dogs. "Stay put. Stay." Then to his mate he yelled. "I'm coming. I'm just trying to keep the dogs from eating them."

"Nonsense! Nanna wouldn't hurt a fly."

"Yes, well it's not Nanna I'm worried about it's your proud prince here, Demitri that's leading the charge."

Macleod let out a put upon sigh of exasperation then turning his attention fully upon the dogs he ordered. "Dogs Attention! Stand. Silence! Stay." The dogs were immediately quiet and still, like a small army following it's commander's orders. "These are family, you will behave and you will protect them. At ease."

The dogs let out small whines of understanding and then the three: one gray, one black, and one gold. The dogs sat down in the grass in parade at ease stance. Johnny and Joe and Tara each blinked amazement at the dogs' training and behavior.

"No worries kiddos Mac trained them well. Welcome to Casa de Peirson and Macleod. It's good to meet you at long last. Mac has done nothing but tell me stories about you, Johnny, for months now, well years, actually." Said Methos in his charming guileless Adam Pierson researcher persona.

Johnny kept a neutral expression on his face. His eyes were cold like Connor's could be when meeting a potential adversary. Duncan took note of it and felt unease. He had hoped that Johnny and Methos would get on well. Family should get along with each other and that's what they all were now, family.

Johnny replied. "I wish I could say the same for you Mr. Pierson."

He tried to sound less than hostile but from the looks on his Uncle and new friend Joe's faces he knew he hadn't succeeded. Johnny paused, unsure of what to say next and how to save the situation. Johnny's manners came to the fore with his wife's elbow in the ribs to help him. However, when he took Methos' hand in a friendly handshake it turned quickly into a testing one, his eyes looking Methos over, up and down, and inside and out.

Methos hated being looked at like that. But he understood why Johnny was doing so. He understood that Johnny was looking out for his Uncle's best interest. Another elbow by his wife in the ribs and Johnny quickly let go of him, to Methos amusement. Before he could continue doing the man thing by testing Methos further with the grip of steel. Methos hid his smile the Scottish in the lad was very endearing. He hadn't been tested like that in ages. Methos knew that Johnny would have tried to bring him to his knees with that handshake of his. However he would have found out that Methos wasn't as weak as he seemed or as powerless. Methos was confident that it would have been Johnny on his knees rather than he if the contest of wills had lasted much longer. Of course that is if Mac would have let him get away with it. John's spouse wasn't the only one ready to use an elbow on their mate.

"Well, the table's set let's go eat." he announced jauntily.

Duncan smiled and laughed quietly all at the same time, amused by his spouse and his nephew's antics. Methos' arm went around his waist and Duncan leaned over and kissed Methos' cheek.

"I love you." he whispered.

"And I you." said Methos quietly back.

TBC

**Some day, this fic will be finished, but that day isn't today. **

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